Ultimate Versus Penultimate - That Is The Question...

This blog entry was actually written last night, but I ran out of oomph before I could post...

I have a blast of hysterical silliness entering my bones. This reaction may have been caused by the Ultimate Day of Stressful Events, as opposed to the Penultimate Day Before The Workshop...But before I launch forward into a summary of my Testing Time, I am, once more, the victim of my own interpolation.

My Darling Dad, for those who aren't yet aware of his influence on my life, was a wordsmith. He always loved language. Words and their meanings. Antonyms and synonyms. His joy was in a dictionary, the fatter the better, and his beloved Roget's Thesaurus. He was both amused and irritated if those around him used words incorrectly. A great example of this was the utilisation of "ultimate" as opposed to "penultimate". Some assume that the addition of the prefix "pen" to "ultimate" merely adds emphasis. This notion is entirely incorrect. One of the meanings of "ultimate" is last, hence my youngest child, Mister Alex Hawes was nicknamed "Mo" from "Ultimo", also meaning "the end"! The word "penultimate" is actually "second last". So, this is the penultimate evening prior to Michael's workshop, whereas today has been the ultimate day of stress, using one of its other meanings - utmost.

Thus, I feel rather like Prince Hamlet of Denmark, pondering one of life's traumatic trials. Although I don't think I shall perish before tonight's curtain fall, I also have that sensation that I have been run over by a truck, repeatedly. Maybe, I insulted that formidable diva Samantha Connor in another dimension and she has taken to me with her wheelchair. Either that or I have killed a lot of Chinamen in a past life (yes, I know that is entirely politically incorrect, please forgive me) and I am paying for my crimes with large dollops of penance.

The day began with my usual reluctance to rise from bed. Given my severe obstructive sleep apnoea, refreshed sleep is a distant memory until I start my trial of a CPAP machine in December. Canine poop patrol was followed by kitty litter refreshment and the restocking of the feline gods' biscuits and water. Then, I checked my emails, drank my first cup of tea for the morning and considered my next move. I harangued Michael to contact Frameswest, the Northam company that was supplying our two additional MiG welders, gas bottles and other bits and pieces. We agreed Michael and I would travel up this afternoon and collect the gear. Plus, after putting an SOS out on Facebook for some anvils, the fantastic John Hawke has come to our rescue and his awesome good lady Tess will be delivering the anvil tomorrow afternoon.

Thus, we decided that Michael could not lose two or three hours out of today when he was consumed by construction of the welding curtain frames. So, I volunteered to drive the one hundred and forty kilometre round trip to Northam. And that was how the trouble began.

Having forgotten to take our (flat) spare tyre to the Beverley Tyre Service, and noticing a slow leak in its replacement, I started my trip there. Unfortunately the flat spare was "rooted" and could not be repaired. A new tyre was ordered and I set out, my heart in my mouth, to Northam for all the welding requirements. Michael had pumped up the tyre before I left, but the leak was even obvious to me at Frameswest in Northam. Hence I hoped to visit Tyrepower in town and pump up the tyre again to get me home.

Alas this was not possible. The replacement tyre was also stuffed. A repair in Marble Bar had been inadequate and a sizable fracture had signed its fate. So now we needed another new tyre and I had just spent the last of our funding at Frameswest...

Frantically searching for a solution, I rang our fabulous project officer at the Wheatbelt Health Network. An emergency payment was authorised, paid and the new tyre was duly fitted. Then I collected a small roast for dinner, filled Lily with diesel and set out for home. 

I arrived just before six o'clock. I am absolutely exhausted, both mentally and physically. Luckily, Michael has best buddy Gary coming to help him organise the work spaces tomorrow. 

I am sure that like any nervous performer, Michael will be fine on Wednesday for the launch of the two-day workshop.

Me - I am not so sure...

When I start with an image from "Flying High", this indicates both a trying day and my sense of humour!

The spare was flat and the replacement was also going down...

Trevor and the crew at Frameswest were incredibly helpful with all the welding gear...

Accolades to Frameswest!

The Awful Truth...

My cool, calm and collected reaction...

Yeah, right!

A huge thank-you to Simon and his team at Northam Tyrepower for helping to save me...

And special thanks to Maren Lavery for her timely assistance!

How To Organise A Clayton's Heroic When We're Not Having A Heroic...

 Back in the 1970s and 1980s, Drink Driving was recognised as a carnage creator on the roads, so certain companies began offering non-alcoholic drinks as an alternative, particularly for spirits. The Clayton Brothers, who began bottling their beverage in the 1880s, apparently a concoction of "African kola nuts and citrus essences" (!).  Still marketed as Clayton's Kola Tonic, one can snip down to the local Woolies and purchase a bottle, if so inclined.

A jingle was conjured up by Australian John McKellar and an advertising campaign was launched..."the drink you have when you're not having a drink". Our very popular local sex symbol, Jack Thompson played our hero who advises the barman "When I don't feel like alcohol, I have Clayton's". Jack, our quintessential laconic larrikin  may have just been responsible for encouraging a few blokes to have a Clayton's too...

Fairly quickly, the term entered the Australian and New Zealand vernacular, either as a compliment or an insult. We all know a Clayton's carpenter - an excellent handy person without a formal qualification. Then there is the Clayton's election campaign - the covert messages that begin to be generated long before an election is actually called. A Clayton's repair job may be a triumph or a catastrophe depending on which Clayton's carpenter one hires. In New Zealand, the Clayton's South Island Intervarsity Novice Debating Competition was the "debating tournament to go to when you're not debating".

The Beverley Heroic, the Lovechild of the exceeding Heroic Toby Hodgson, ran for seven years. The impetus was to honour the Beverley to Perth Road Race which was considered the most gruelling bicycle race of its time. The original race ran for ninety-seven years and needed an eccentric genius, Toby, to transform a memory into a rollicking weekend event. Unfortunately, bureaucratic nonsense became too much and the last official Heroic ran in October 2019.

Enter the Clayton's Heroic. The Beverley Heroic Reset. However one wishes to title this fantastic event, no pen-pusher can get in the way of this impromptu bicycle carnival.  The main race is tomorrow, October 10, from 8 am at the Beverley Town Hall. This afternoon the cyclocross is being run plus the town night ride this evening. So do yourselves a favour and turn your vehicle of choice towards the Avon Valley. Come up to enjoy the bike race you have when you are not having a bike race. 

And please do watch out for lunatics on two wheels.

Bring your CX bike and stay for the parmy.

Unfortunately the Beverly Heroic in no more, but WACX ca still keep the cross fires burning!

It's a great course, a fun event and as WACX takes 'cross to the county.

Race twilight Saturday, dust yourself off and race Sunday morning - well that's the plan.

Currently subject to a bunch of approvals - TBC

Bring your RID - the mozzie are ferocious at dusk
it's a great course, the tennis club has a cold beer and puts on a great sausage sizzle - nothing can beat choosing between the upper and lower for a parmy and a jug (or go to both).

Camping Beverley Heroic Campsite Rules
​
Check-in/ Check-out:
Check-in Time: from 2.00 p.m before 6pm Saturday. Check-out time: 4pm Sunday. Visit the WACX Race Admin to check in, pay and be allocated a space.
​
Quiet hours
Quiet hours: 10 p.m.- 8 a.m. Please keep radio, television and other noises to minimum.
Cleaner will be on site 5am Sunday morning.
​
Site Maintenance:
Grassy areas have an underground watering system—please do not penetrate the grass where marked.
Please keep your site neat and free of litter including cigarettes.
For safety reason, clothes lines are not allowed at our Campsite. Please do not hang towels, clothing, or other articles on trees and fences.
Keep Restrooms and showers clean, don’t forget your stuff.
There is no Caretaker on site.
​
Pet Rules
We love all dogs -they should be kept under direct supervision must be on leash at all times.
Please remember to clean up after your pet.
For the safety of our younger guests, we ask that parents accompany children under 12 using the facilities. Children should use extreme caution when crossing or playing near any park roads.
Not pets, but Mosquitoes- We recommend mosquito repellent for these personal pests around dusk.
​
Fires
Fires are NOT permitted.
BBQ facilities are located at the Northern end of the Clubhouse.ehicles

Please observe speed limit 5km/hr.
Do not drive on the Oval.
​
Beverley Heroic Campsite will not be responsible for fire, accidents, power surges or loss of personal property/valuables of any kind. Use of surge protection is recommended.
Guests accept site rental privileges with the understanding that they are responsible for their and their children’s safety.
This is Drop Bear country. Help keep the campsite safe by storing all food inside.

Country Cyclocross for all the family. Experience the great outdoors on a sweet CX course, along the banks of the mighty Avon River in Beverley.

In conjunction with the Beverley Heroic, we at WACX though it would be an ideal time to escape the city and bring a little cowbell action to the country and have a little CX knees up.

An ideal excuse to stay the night and enjoy some country hospitality, before being Heroic the following day. The tennis club will be opening the bar and sausages will be sizzled, placed lovingly in a roll (with or with onions) with a fine selection of sauces to choose. WACX will bring along a Curry and Frites sauces to add a little extra European flavour (I'll remember this year)

Oh! What A night!

We are now ten days past our latest Sundowner and I haven't written the report of another fabulous evening. I plead exceptional circumstances including our time with Callum, Bron and Miss Immy, followed by another very busy weekend. Throw in our ongoing saga with the NDIA and we had some extraordinarily stressful episodes following which I would have been grateful to enter Bedlam.

October has been none too warm yet and I am sick of wearing layers. We are just about out of firewood for the Gallery, so I hope that the temperature during the coming days exceeds the current chilly conditions. I am rather worried about my two frangipanis - the weather has not been conducive for bud formation and I am anxiously waiting to see if either of them have survived this rather bleak and extended winter.

Enough of this gloom and doom. On Saturday 25 September, we enjoyed a delightful Sundowner. Once more, we were fortunate with our East End musos - the urbane Lawrence Jones, the uber groovy Ron Elston, the irresistible Luke Blanch, the divine Mizz Jan George and a fantastically funky Fremantle duo calling themselves Annie and the Drifter. Our musos blended as if they'd played together at multiple gigs and provided us with entertainment that would have cost much more at a Sunday session. Needless to say, all aspects of our Sundowner such as the sausage sizzle and the music were free of charge. Attendees took the notion of bringing a plate and bottle beyond the call of duty and we had our usual generous spread for all and sundry to enjoy.

The crowd remained smallish and intimate as the AFL Grand Final was playing in Perth instead of Melbourne and began at 5.15pm rather than 2.30pm. We were not fazed. We had more than enough guests sharing conversation, song, food, drink and the Gallery to please everybody.

For those who missed out, a call to arms for Saturday 11 December. Our seventh birthday is officially 19 December, but we know from experience that summer heat and family commitments tend to overshadow other celebrations during the festive season.

So get out your diary, phone, calendar or aged envelope and save the date - Saturday 11 December from 5.30 pm. Our last Sundowner for the year will have a Christmas theme so wrap yourself in leftover tinsel, stick a Santa hat on your noggin, get out your best pirate paraphernalia - David Sparrow - and prepare to be part of our birthday and Christmas celebrations. This Sundowner promises to be the Party of 2021!

The Beverley Hillbillies...

The show in full throttle...

Annie and Luke...

Jan, Brett (the Drifter) and Annie...

Annie and Brett

Lawrence, Annie, Luke and Brett...

Mizz George...

Mister Jones...

Lawrence, Annie, Luke, Brett and Ron...

Maggie...

Brett...

Luke...

Lawrence and Annie...

Mister Elston.

Forty-Three Hours With Our Grandtoddler (and her Mummy and Daddy!)

Back in the Dark Ages, Nescafe Blend 43 came up with the bright idea that there were forty-three (coffee) beans in every cup. How they decided on exactly forty-three beans is a complete mystery to me. If anybody can enlighten me with their knowledge of this trivia,  please do so.

I actually worked out that we spent forty-three hours with our beloved Imogen, Callum, Bron and of course, Ragnar the sociopath Ragdoll cat. The long weekend in the Gallery had been a frenetic whirling dervish with wonderful guests, an outstanding sundowner, plenty of enthusiasm and brisk sales thrown in for good measure. Last to visit on Monday was one of our artists, Lorraine Pichugin and her husband John. We decided to postpone conversation with them until lunch time Wednesday. Then we unceremoniously tossed them out of the East End Gallery. The reason? Three o'clock was fast approaching and we wished to pack up and push off to the Big Smoke.

I know we normally loathe any excursion to the city. However, we were shattered after the weekend and needed a break. So we set off in Lily with the back seat packed to the gunnels and left all dogs, cats and the bird under the tender ministrations of friend Jodi. The thought of being able to cuddle each other in bed, without any four-legged fiends, was intoxicating. Our destination was the home of our Grandtoddler.

We arrived just after five-thirty. We unpacked enough luggage for an expedition to the Amazon, settled into their guest room and launched forward into drinks, laughter, dinner and plenty of re-bonding with Immy. I have vowed to see her more regularly as she didn't really remember us.

Callum's Panko crumbed Japanese chicken breasts were an absolute triumph. From a young man who grudgingly received "Cooking for Idiots" when he left home, he has blossomed into an urbane, adventurous and exacting chef. Like any other passion Cal chooses to follow, he had incredibly high standards and great expectations. Michael, Bron and I were the fortunate recipients of another of his fantastic dinners.

We slept remarkably well. Being unaccompanied in the boudoir was a new experience. We did not hurry out of bed. Callum created another culinary treat - fried eggs infused with basil pesto, bacon that was neither dry nor sodden, with bagels. Following that masterpiece, we should have carried out some energetic exercise. But instead, whilst Imogen was napping, Michael and I watched the Swedish version of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". We enjoyed the movie immensely and felt that the Swedish version was superior to the American version. Why? The characters seemed less pretty, more damaged and utterly believable to us. Five stars.

After Immy woke up, we walked around the streets and parks of Banksia Grove. She ran with gay abandon through one of the parks and we had some exercise. This was thoroughly enjoyable and gave us an appetite for dinner at the Ashby Bar and Bistro.

Michael and I shared the Ashby's Tasting Plate, which was a marvellous collection of different tastes and textures. We returned home, so Imogen would have a good night's sleep before Cal and I took her at a SciTech incursion at the local Child Health Centre. Bron retired to bed, I worked on my laptop whilst the "boys" unzipped their man suits and feasted on an action comedy from a streaming service.

Next morning, Cal and I embarked to the SciTech incursion. Marketed as being for children from 1-5 years, their focus was too sophisticated at the beginning. Little girls of twenty-one months are not adept at sitting on the mat unless given something to do. Immy was not going to listen to talk without action for any length of time. Their opening spiel complete, the SciTech reps were engaged with all the children and had brought a variety of different activities. 

Immy had a wonderful time, Callum showed off his skills as a Super Daddy and I just enjoyed the whole spectacle. What a difference from when I'd been the mum in a similar situation. Now, as Nanny Kate, I could relax, not stress, not be bothered by behaviours and immerse myself in this experience. I wished I'd been able to tell some of the mothers there to just chill, not worry and allow their kids to be kids, even if they were mildly obnoxious. I felt that being a mum in that environment was vaguely unfair for some of them as they believed they needed to micro manage their children, rather than just letting them be.

Returning to their home, we kissed Immy goodbye as she prepared for her nap. Stacking the car again, we farewelled Cal and Bron and turned south towards Lorraine and John's house for lunch. Spoiled again with a fantastic spread, we stayed for a couple of hours before reluctantly hitting the road. Shopping for me, researching the cost of safety gear for Michael's workshop took up the rest of the afternoon. We eventually arrived home at seven o'clock after an action packed two days.

A quiet sojourn? Not really. But we loved every second of being with Callum, Bronwyn and Miss Imogen Ivy.

Immy with Bronwyn...

Immy's playspace at home...

At the park with Daddy...

You can't catch me!

Run, run, run as fast as you can...

Grampy...

Images from the SciTech incursion -