NEWS - THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE UGLY

Back to The Farm

The next few months of lives will hang in our memories for a very long time, there were some very sad times and some happy moments mixed amongst the sad. I hope you will excuse me for relating most of the events with a certain amount of levity. Life itself is often sad and dramatic, I don’t think I need to add to the negatives. Please understand I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone when I use humour to convey our story.

On the Saturday morning prior to taking mum into RPH I had a minor nose bleed. Nothing to be alarmed about – I had a series of them around 3 years ago just before we travelled. Some of those had been doosies and very hard to stop, but this was just a little baby one. I simply thought to myself (stupid woman), how fortunate it was that the bleed had happened on the Saturday and not the Monday morning. Monday morning we needed to off from the farm around 7.15 in order to pick mum up some 40ks further south, so that we could get her to her appointment at RPH yet another 30 or so ks south. Fortunately, I had a very early shower and was dressed by 7am. At 7am, I sneezed! From that point on, my nose started not to just bleed, but to absolutely gush blood. Nothing I did stemmed the flow in any way. How I managed not to get blood all over me, I just don’t know. I certainly did a good job of decorating the ensuite in the van! I could do nothing. I could not remove my hand from my nose for even a split second without torrents of blood spilling out. The pressure behind my ear-drums was incredible and the pain was quite significant. I expected blood to start gushing from my eyes and my ears the way things were going. Anyway, I was determined to be with Mum this day and so I managed, with DD’s help to board Zed and we headed down to pick Mum up. When we arrived at her place, the bleeding had not abated and so I was unable to help her leave the house or, as I would usually do, help her climb aboard the Cruiser (Zed). Poor old DD had to do all the honours and I (by now on my second box of tissues along with numerous wipes etc) sat miserably in the front seat of the car.

Evening Glow

Locals

We took off and but by the time we reached the hospital, while the bleeding had slowed a little, my nose was still bleeding. Now...........the Ear Nose & Throat department in that old mausoleum that represents RPH is at least a half k walk. Bear in mind that I normally would be helping mum, holding her hand and making sure she didn’t stumble etc. This time, I still had one hand clamped firmly to my nose, my handbag, mum’s handbag, mum, and I think from memory, her brolly too! Off we limped on our long and (for both of us) tortuous journey to the EN&T dept. Amazingly we were on time! When we arrived and I advised them of mum’s presence, Mother, never usually very maternal loftily demanded that ‘somebody’ tend to her daughter. It seems quite hilarious, if not very fortuitous that it was the Ear Nose and Throat Dept. I was duly carted off to the nurse’s station where a nice young Registrar came along, examined me, had the nurses finally staunch the red flow and then cauterise the offending vessel. All the while I was carrying on about being with Mum when she saw the Dr. Finally I was sorted and returned to Mother’s side well in time for her to see her Dr.

Green Fairies Dancing

We were ushered into a room where sat a delightful young fella. All roses and cream complexion and cultured English accent; he seemed to me to be around 19 years old. Once we were seated, Mother declared in vibrant tones, “Thank God you are white and Australian!”, while I muttered something helpful like “Oh mum!”, trying to look inconspicuous and ignore the very large Indian Dr lurking in the doorway, the young English registrar simply smiled sweetly and advised mum to ‘get it all out’ – what a honey! Mum then launched into the story of the Indian cab driver she had drive her to the hospital the previous week. When Mother had deposited herself into the front passenger seat of the taxi the nice turbaned Indian gentleman behind the wheel had proceeded to regale her with the story of his arranged marriage gone wrong. It seems that his wife- to- be was brought out from India for their nuptials and he (I guess being slightly Westernised) proceeded to attempt to please her, giving her all manner of gifts etc. It seems that the lady was not unduly impressed and the whole thing culminated in her departing our shores minus a wedding commitment. As Mum and her erstwhile driver arrived at the front steps of the hospital, it seems his parting words to mum were “and I bought her a Fucking Mobile Phone!” You may be shocked to think a gentleman of this ilk would use this type of language in the presence of an elderly and very upright looking passenger, but trust me, he was doubtless encouraged by that same elegant personage.

A chat around the Water - Cooler

I have never seen a young man blush the way that young Registrar blushed that day. I doubt he had kept bad company much and certainly was not expecting that sort of language from the very proper looking, diminutive, frail old woman sitting opposite him. He truly didn’t seem to know where to put himself. I have long since been accustomed to mum’s verbatim story-telling, and so my degree of embarrassment was minimal.

That was the fun part of the day – the young Registrar’s next words seemed to rob the day of any further joy. The lump on mum’s face was in fact a form of blood cancer and many more tests were needed and she was quickly scheduled an appointment with a Lymphoma specialist within the hospital. The week spiralled out of control from that point. That was the Monday, from the ENT department, we went to arrange RMI scans and a CAP scan was arranged at Charlie Garner Hospital for the Thursday. By Friday we were sitting in front of the specialist with all the results. It evolved that mum had a form of Lymphoma (Non Hodgekins I believe) which we were told categorically was curable. The cure however involved up to 6 lots of chemotherapy followed by a series of radiation treatments. I was somewhat horrified as I really didn’t think mum could manage all of that. Mum however was quite positive and keen (well sort of keen) to get on with it. The Registrar arranged for her to be admitted to hospital the following Tuesday for further tests, largely to satisfy him that she was indeed strong enough to withstand the treatment.

Just Dropped In

Just before I lead into the next part of Mum’s story, I must just tell you about the day we had all the children together to tell them about our marriage. Everyone was there with the exception of Bree who was by now in London. Getting everyone there at the same time proved to be somewhat of a nightmare; as I have said before, they are all soooo busy and without telling them why we wanted them there it was hard to convince them of the necessity.

I had arranged (made) a large cake for the announcement, that being my way of sharing the day with all. Predictably Naomi was super late and so making the announcement to everyone simultaneously still did not eventuate. We did manage to tell everyone tho’ and all were predictably happy for us. The day was marred however by the revelation that two of our various offspring were facing marital problems. Brett & Nom were it seemed on the brink of dissolving their marriage for at least the short term and Danni took me aside to tell me that they too were not experiencing plain sailing. It was sad news indeed, particularly in the case of Brett & Nom as there are children involved there. Hopefully all will be well in each instance.

Peace

CALLED HOME AGAIN

COASTAL GLORY

I had of course, during this time been talking to mum each day on the phone. No sooner had we left home than the lump that had appeared on the side of her nose just before Christmas, (the one that was deemed to be an ant bite), reappeared. Not only did it re-appear, but it rapidly become quite large. Mum once again tried antihistamines, this time to no avail. Her general health too, seemed to be suffering.

It almost seemed she had just hung in there until after the marriage ceremony. The following day she seemed worse than usual on the phone and decided to go and see her GPs. Now, I’d better tell you right now that the next episode in our lives, revolving around mum, will take quite a bit of telling. I know I am never brief, but this will be more wordy than usual so I apologise in advance, but I cannot in all conscience, with respect to mum or anyone else going thru’ similar events, short cut at this time.

A Storm Approaches!

During the past 12 months I have become more and more horrified at the way some of the medical fraternity and their staff, treat our oldies. I guess the fact that we are becoming older ourselves help to fuel that uncomfortable realisation.

River Mouth

Mum was attending the local Dental Hospital to have a fair amount of dental work done and to have a small partial plate made. As I usually took her to these trysts I had a pretty good idea of how they dealt with her. On one noteworthy occasion, they kept mum in that chair way past the time when she told them quite clearly she was no longer able to handle the treatment. She was at the time, 86 years old, and quite frail. When she told them she could not continue that day, they should have ceased. It was not a procedure that had to be continued, from memory, I think it was a cleaning procedure, following a fitting for the dentures. I also heard the way she was treated at the front desk, both at the dental surgery and the doctors’ surgery. The staff, for whatever reason, seem to think that if you are elderly you must be both simple and deaf. The only way I can describe the general treatment is as a form of bullying. Listening I would cringe on mum’s behalf – she was certainly neither of those things and in her heyday would have given any of these self righteous excuses for human beings a run for their money.

Honeymoon Suite

This general type of treatment was exemplified when she called the surgery to make a double appointment to see a GP. Sadly for mum, there were a couple of circumstances which had lead up to her being a bit of an orphan as far as GPs were concerned. Her long term GP, the one who not only had she been seeing for some 20 or so years, but who had also been her mother’s Dr, retired; there was another older Dr at the practice who mum had also been seeing on and off for around the same period of time. This particular Dr, an Asian lady was super thorough, but painfully slow, largely because she refused point blank to use a computer at all. Every time mum went to see her, there was a wait of at least, at least, 2 hours. That is a long time for an elderly woman (and her not so young daughter) to be sitting in a germ ridden, busy, noisy, often cold waiting room. The only upside to these prolonged waits was that mum invariably saw someone she knew and had some quite nice chats while waiting.

Two of the colourful locals

By the time mum tried to make her next appointment the Asian lady Dr was on leave, this was probably not necessarily a bad thing, as due (we think) to her own poor and deteriorating health, she had given mum an incorrect prescription – when she was supposed to give a prescription for a higher dose of blood pressure medication, she had in fact written out a script for a lighter dose – considering how high mum’s blood pressure was at the time, an error which could have proved fatal!

On this particular occasion, mum called and asked for a double appointment. Not for the first time, she was bluntly asked “Why” by the woman on the phone. Honestly, I just don’t get this! What bloody business is it of a telephonist why you need to see a Dr for a longer period of time? The appointment, double or single is being paid for after all. What medical experience would these people have that would enable them to make a decision as to whether or not the request was valid? Why should any of us have to explain our private medical affairs with a telephonist? Anyway, thanks to the surly tone etc of the person on the other end of the phone, mum ended up with just a normal length appointment. She had wanted to talk to the Dr about getting Taxi Vouchers verified and of course, about the lump on her face. This lump by now had grown so rapidly, it was pushing her glasses up above their usual position.

A single appointment was made with the Dr who generally fielded all the’ drop in’ patients, you know the type of Dr I am talking about here. They generally are super quick and not particularly interested – many surgeries employ these quick operators in order to get thru’ the patient list quickly. Mum had been compelled to see this particular GP before and had found him to reasonably OK. Anyway, she was pretty desperate by this time.

I can only relate this now, as told to me by mum. This wonderful chap, DID NOT AT ANY TIME look at my mother’s face. According to mum, he didn’t even look up from his desk/computer. She asked him about Taxi Vouchers and was told in very abrupt tones that “You are not technically Blind”, “You do not use a Walker”, “You can catch a bus!” – you know, by now Mum was unable to walk more than a couple of yards without stopping for a break, she had very little stamina, and whilst she was not legally blind, I had to hold her hand all the time to stop her from stumbling, as her eyesight simply couldn’t adjust from shade to bright at all. She had, while we were away the previous year for a week or so, fallen in the middle of the road outside the optometrists, in busy traffic I might add. I am not a vindictive person, but part of me wishes this particular GP some tough times when he gets to mum’s venerable age. Oddly, despite his little rant, he did sign the relative paper work for her however. Mum was bundled out of the surgery without having him attend to the really important issue of the lump on her face.

All of this had happened in the two weeks since we left home for Denmark. The lump had been nowhere to be seen when we went, but had re-surfaced aggressively in that short time. Yet another locum was called, this time, mum was told to have biopsy performed on the lump. Now she was scared!! The next day she took herself out to the Emergency Department of Swan Districts Hospital where they took very good care of her indeed. She was there for the whole day and they took a whole series of tests and made an appointment for her to go into the Ear Nose and Throat department of Royal Perth Hospital (RPH) the following day. They took her everywhere in a wheel chair and provided her with Taxi vouchers to use for going to RPH. Mum did all of this in our absence and it must have been hard indeed!

By now, this was one week after we had tied the knot. On Tuesday, mum took herself into RPH as arranged and they performed yet more tests and an appointment was made for her to attend on the following Monday in order to get the results. She really had been thru’ the wringer by now and we immediately decided to call short our stay in Denmark and head on home. I promised mum we would be there to take her to the RPH appointment the following Monday.

We packed up the following day and headed directly home, not stopping half way as we could have normally done. We arrived home on the Thursday and headed down to visit mum on the Friday. The rapid deterioration in her health was notable as was the huge lump now clearly visible alongside her nose.

Remember now, we still had not shared our Big News with the family. Only mum knew we were married. In order to remedy this we called around to arrange a ‘bun-fight’ at the old farm on the second Sunday we arrived home, still not telling anyone anything.



Goodbye to Beautiful Denmark



THE BIG EVENT!

 

The Happy Couple


So.....................of course by now you all know that we married this year, but back then it was all very hush hush. The only person we really shared our plans with was mum – that was largely so she would understand our need to leave her for a few weeks. Mum was so relieved we were planning to wed. She had some very old fashioned ideas about my lack of vows and really, I think, worried about me unwed. She was also disappointed not to be able to be there with us, but she truly simply could not have managed the trip and subsequent ‘holiday’. Instead she was relatively content to be in the ‘know’ and part of the planning process.



The Bridal Party



Doug listens intently to instructions!

Initially we had some idea of simply having a Registry Office wedding but when we discovered just how much our Government charge to marry someone, we had second thoughts. We opted instead to have a very quiet and small civil ceremony utilising a celebrant. Logistically it proved a little challenging to arrange the wedding some 400 odd ks away from where we were living at the time. Thanks to the magic of the net however I was able to find a delightful lady in Denmark to do the honours for us. I also found a pretty venue, ordered flowers, booked hair-do’s and make up all from information gleaned on line.

I have to get a little girlie here and spend some time discussing the female elements of the day. The first items of course were the rings. DD’s idea here was to simply set me a dollar limit and send me off on my own to select my rings. Girls, I have to say I sallied forth with very mixed emotions. Part of me really wished he would have come with me to select the rings (more romantic I think) but part of me agreed with his logic which revolved around the fact that he would only rush me and I would end up with something I didn’t really like. Probably true! Anyway, I selected a set (whatever that is called) of matching Wedding and Engagement rings. The Wedder has a row of small diamonds across the top and the Engagement ring has a raised cluster of stones complementing the Wedder. Being a ‘bling baby’ I am not much of a one for solitaires, feeling that you get more ‘bang for your buck‘ with several smaller stones. Anyway, I am happy with the result.

This is how it is going to be!

The next challenge, much harder, was an outfit. We were only going to be four folk on the day, just us and our good friends Steve & Sylvia. The venue was a winery restaurant and the time was around midday. I just needed something pretty, feminine and not too over the top. Preferably something I could get use of at a later date. Considering my very un-sylph like form, that proved to be relatively difficult. Finally however in desperation I stumbled on a beautiful little boutique in downtown Midland (amazing!) and there after a brief discussion with the owner came up with a wonderful solution.

The Ring

The Vows

The Kiss

The very clever lady there had designed these knee length sheer jackets, in all different colours, the intention being to wear two different colours (one over the other) together. Brilliant! As I was a little undecided about the colours I wanted, I did the only sensible thing – I purchased one of every colour!!! Lovely.........I now have an outfit for just about every event and occasion I may ever need to attend – until the end of my days. In this event, the jackets were worn over a little black top and black dress pants. Accessorised, it all looked just fine.

As red roses have formed such a big part of our history, I wanted to include a deep red into the day, but finally balked at wearing red and black – just didn’t feel right somehow, and ended up with peacock blue over cerise – it worked very well. I told DD he needn’t wear a tie as we were keeping the day casual. We had thought he would wear grey strides and his blue blazer, but sadly when the blazer was aired it was discovered that it had shrunk a couple of sizes – truly! Instead he wore his grey suit, a deep blue shirt and cerise hanky – very swish!

The Blunder

The big day was planned for May 1st and to this end we departed Perth and arrived in Denmark one week ahead of time. We were so lucky with our dear friends Steve & Sylvia who were at the time visiting relatives in the area. We let them into our secret and enlisted their help for the day. It proved to be perfect as they are the only ones we still know who we were friends with when we were a young courting couple all those many years ago. They in fact were courting the same time as us. Couldn’t have been better!

Oh No!!

Of course I am assuming here that you all know our history – just in case there is someone there who is not conversant with our story, in brief, DD and I were teenage sweethearts, life intervened (as life does), we parted company, in due course both married others, had two children each and in our own respective times, parted company with those partners and then some 33 years down the track our orbits once again collided. Our first meeting, now almost 10 years ago, saw DD arrive at my home with a seafood banquet, wine, brand new crystal glasses, photos of then and now, and best of all ladies, 33 long stemmed dark red roses, one for each of our years apart. I was blown away of course. Each year after that he continued the roses, adding one each year until finally I had to call ‘uncle’ as it was getting a bit difficult to find suitable vases each time the roses came around in October. Since then he has simply given me a small bunch each year. Hence the preoccupation with red roses; I have to say girls that was pretty much the first and last romantic gesture by our boy – not that I mind, that was a good one and has stood him in very good stead ever since.

The Serious Bit

Back to the Big Event – once in Denmark we were able to visit the venue, and do all the little final things we had to do for the event. Steve & Sylvia arrived a couple of days after us and being the darlings they are, and tee-totallers to boot, they agreed to pick us up and bring us back to the van on the day. Yes, we did just stay in the van – I know that doesn’t seem particularly romantic t o some, but trust me, we were more than happy parked at the mouth to the river in beautiful Denmark.


Its Official


I had come across all feminine and decided to have my make-up done for the day – ladies, can I tell you now, if anyone of you in my particular age bracket decide for any reason to have you ‘make up done’ – don’t! Not a good time to discover just how many wrinkles one has on one’s face! I rarely wear much makeup and nor do I often look in the mirror with my glasses on (take my word for it, a VERY GOOD THING), but on the day in question, the lady who did my hair, also did my face and every hitherto unrealised crack, crater and wrinkle all of a sudden came out to say HI!! Bugger! On top of that debacle I for some peculiar reason opted to wear a fascinator. Why?! Buggered if I know now, but at the time it seemed like a great idea. Well girls, I would like you to picture the following.

The Venue

Early in the morning, I dressed myself in jeans and a shirt that didn’t have to be pulled over my head and took myself off to the hair-dressers. There the nice lady curled my hair and ‘put it back and up’ for me. Very nice; She then proceeded to layer, oh at least a kilo of stuff on my poor old face, hmmm.............oh well! Then to top the whole thing off, she placed my dark blue fascinator on my locks. Ohhhhh!

Now, the plan was that as soon as I was ‘done’ I would phone DD who would come and pick me up pronto – right. I am now in down town Denmark, country WA, home of all good ferals, alternatives and solid country folk – sitting out the front of the strip of shops, looking like...................you know I’m not really sure what I was looking like, but from all the sideways glances I was receiving, raised eye-brows, grimaces, grins and the likes, obviously if nothing else I was good entertainment value. DD you ask, where the hell was he.....................oh, out chatting somewhere, not with phone in pocket, and so not getting my call. Lovely! I am not sure how long I sat there for awaiting my errant knight, but suffice to say long enough to entertain the locals considerably.

Steve & Sylvia picked us up and drove us to the very pretty winery – the day was not wonderful, but at least it didn’t rain. As rain looked possible, we elected to have the event inside. We had by now met our lovely celebrant Wendy and had explained our somewhat eccentric idea of our day. We all sat......yes sat, around the table. On the table was, you guessed it, a vase of dark red roses. Steve kindly took DD’s camera and ‘shot’ the wedding for us. I’m not sure what particular demon demanded he only take photos of me looking like a stunned mullet, perhaps it was because he is such an avid fisherman, but whatever, each and every photo of me is a shocker. Maybe I just always look that way! Everyone else looks fine in the photos Steve! Hmmm. We also took movie camera with us and that was running the whole time – some of the stuff on that is quite good.

For your edification, the following is the ‘reading’ I wrote for the event:

Sometimes in a lifetime there comes a love that is so enduring it can survive even long absences and hibernations. Our love is one such as this.

When we met we were in the moment of youth. Our ambitions were clear, our spirits were strong and our respective pathways clearly mapped.

Passion was strong and we, in love’s sweet youth taught each other a little of love. Like sweet champagne love bubbled in our veins, sweetened our kisses, warmed our embraces and heightened our senses.

Youth however is headstrong and too soon our pathways, whilst briefly intertwined, separated as we both followed our dreams.

Parting was steeped in sorrow. Only the resilience of youth made our separate journeys plausible. As often happens with those who truly love, we each locked away a scrap of love, a place in our hearts that would always belong each to the other. That small particle of ourselves was to forever belong to the other, as so much had been shared and so much had been given, that vestige of our love was as perennial as the seasons.

The people that we are, did not allow any examination of that scrap of love for many years – as we clove to others, we honoured those relationships and put old loves aside. No waking moment was spent in reliving old loves, no conscious thought was sacrificed to regret. New promises made to others were respected and our new loves and families rightly occupied our thoughts and endeavours. Our dreams however, visited occasionally the first love. In that pleasant realm we sometimes returned to remember the sweetness of youth and the delight of discovering love for the first time.

As too often happens in this hurly burly world, despite our good intentions, those other loves, those other lives we lived paled and eventually faded away. Only then did we each allow our thoughts to return to those heady days of youth. Only then did we each separately stretch out our senses and begin our search to reconnect with our youthful love.

Wondrously somehow, perhaps with God’s blessing and help, with our spirits seeking each other, we reconnected on this earthly plain. In the magic of the moment 33 long years evaporated and once again our deep and abiding love for each other emerged. Now where once love had bubbled in our veins like sweet champagne, a deeper, stronger, quieter love flows like golden cognac.

Dark red roses marked the day of our love’s return and will forever remain to us a symbol of our love - love that is enhanced by our separate life experiences, and blessed by our respective families - a love that is so deeply enriched by all that we have been and all that life has taught us.

We have been twice blessed in our love – to experience love’s first bloom and then to be enriched by each others’ company in later life and until our days’ end. As they say in the classics, we have indeed saved the best till last.

For the second reading, we chose Robert Burns classic poem, A Red Red Rose.

A RED RED ROSE

O, My Luve’s like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June:

O, my luve’s like the melodie

That’s sweetly play’d in tune



As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I ;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry :



Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun :

And I will luve thee still my dear,

While the sands of life shall run.



And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.



The plan was initially for DD to memorise the whole poem and quote it to me, I was advised by said man however, that he was literally incapable of memorising so much. Plan 2 was for us to both memorise alternative verses and quote them to each other. Plan 3, was for me to memorise my verses and DD to simply read his. Oh well..............when it came to the crunch ladies, he still mucked it up and instead of romantically declaring in the second verse “I will love thee still”, instead he rather violently and vehemently stated to our various amazements, “I will HAVE thee” – well, due to his other stuttering during the preceding ceremony I was already having trouble keeping it together. Poor Sylvia, sitting directly opposite me had been watching my face, and this proved to be the final straw. Sylvia who is the most contained and poised lady generally just lost the plot and I followed. Thereafter all decorum was lost and the day evolved into a lovely happy luncheon followed by slowly consumed coffees and for DD and me, several lovely glasses of bubbly.

After lunch, Steve drove us back to the van park and left us to our own devices. I know some of you will feel we let the side down with our low key celebrations, but for us, it was perfect.

ADVENT OF 2012

He gave you what for Christmas?

2012 - nobody warned me about 2012! Nobody told me in advance to watch out for this year; it turns out that this is the year in which our lives changed forever. I guess each of the recent years has contained an element of permanent change, but none of them compares to 2012 – and we are not quite at the end of September yet!

Sorry to race ahead of you here – I will backtrack a little for your comfort and try (with my rather faulty senior’s memory) to put things into chronological order.



Honestly!!

 When we last spoke (aside from the ‘Literary Spit’ in May) we were about to celebrate Christmas 2011. I had just taken mum on a wildflower trip and we had had more dramas with the health of my daughter in law Naomi.

Eeiew!

Took me ages to think of it!



Hey - Bro!

 To pick up that thread, Christmas was a fairly quiet affair. Naomi was only just out of hospital in time for the event and we had to keep a very close watch on her to make sure she didn’t over exert herself. Mum was looking forward to spending the day with us lunching with Brett & Nom, Troy & Shell and all the grandies. Sadly on the day, mum just wasn’t up to scratch and opted to stay at home. We had no choice to leave her, after a brief visit in the morning, as we had a goodly portion of Christmas lunch with us.

We had a pleasant, albeit quiet time at Brett’s and then wandered over to Trent & Danni’s (DD’s son and Daughter in law) to spend a few very pleasant hours with them and DD’s ex, Carol, and her new hubby Bill. . Leaving Trent & Danni’s we happily meandered back to our little country retreat, lapping up the luxury of the peace and quiet.

Fortunately, we had already taken mum for her annual visit to her sister Suzie during the week prior to Christmas and so were off the hook for that annual event.

Life post Christmas was pretty hectic – mum’s health was not good and there were a few more health scares for Naomi. We did in that early part of the year manage to have all my lot up to the farm for a brunch and swim in the pool, but other than that we rarely saw any of the offspring. Thanks to the kindness of our good friends Sue and Rob and the donation of a sofa-bed we were also able to have mum come and stay for a couple of nights (along with the manic Wombat). Just like us, mum fell in love with the place and was fascinated to see all the birds and roos coming in for evening nibbles and drinks.

We were a bit peeved with the kids as it did feel to us at the time that we were only there when needed so to speak. In retrospect, I do understand that all our grown up children do indeed have super busy lives and I guess the 50 odd ks to come and visit was asking a bit much – best to think that way anyway!

Mum continued to have poor health and we were kept pretty busy looking after her, doing shopping, taking her to Dr’s appointments and generally being there for her. I don’t think I mentioned that prior to Christmas she had a little lump come up on the side of her nose and ultimately had a locum have a look at it. She was told that it was an ant bite and to take antihistamines to fix the problem – she did, and they did. We also, around the same time, took her into Royal Perth Hospital to visit the Ear Nose and Throat people about possible polyps in her nasal passages. It was confirmed that there were indeed multiple polyps but that surgery was not recommended at her age. We, mum included, all agreed with the outcome.

Other than the nasal problems, mum was just plain tired and her eyes were really worrying her. Despite all the assurances from Eye specialists, opticians and general practitioners to the contrary, she felt that her eyesight had deteriorated markedly. Despite this she was still able to drive at that time, legally, but probably wisely opted not to do so. Not being able to see well really started to impact on her quality of life – reading after all was her big thing and not being able to do that, combined with the lack of ability to do simple things like read labels etc really impacted adversely.

During this period, DD turned 65 and we had the inevitable appointments with Centrelink. Hmmm, don’t know if you have experienced this particular agony yet, if not, be prepared for a frustrating time. We were given conflicting information from various employees and ended up with quite a dramatic time trying to sort out all the bits and pieces. The main drama revolved around the question of whether or not we are deemed home owners. Believe it or not, and despite the advice given to us by their own people, despite the fact we do not own a home in the traditional sense, as we live in our own van, albeit travelling around, we are deemed home owners. As you may appreciate, that impacts on our somewhat meagre investments, and any partial benefits we might or might not be entitled to. I won’t go into any details here, but if any of you are about to launch into this area of your lives, we would be only too pleased to share our own experiences with you. We didn’t win any battles incidentally, but we are very pleased to be able to utilise the benefits provided by DD’s health card – now that really is a good side benefit to being a little older. Mind you, as we are a little older, we now do need some benefits for medical supplies! I think one of the worst things about being associated with Centrelink is the fact that it feels our lives are no longer our own. Each and every decision we make of a remotely financial nature must be shared with these people. It really does feel very invasive.

On the subject of health issues, DD went back to see the Heart Specialist and all was good. He has to stay on blood thinners pretty much ad finitum and have regular blood tests but all in all he is fine. He has lost a significant amount of weight and that combined with his breathing techniques has kept the sleep apnoea at bay and helped him to maintain good health.

We had to face up to the fact we were not going to get away to Tassie as hoped and so hatched a new plan to run away just for a few weeks in early May. I can tell you now, that the reason we had been trying for a couple of years to get down to Tasmania, was so that we could get married there. It was a nice thought, but ultimately we decided to head down to Denmark on the South coast of WA in order to tie the proverbial knot.

THE LITERARY GROUP

Looking, not too carefully, at my reflection in the mirror this morning, I defiantly decided to wear a pair of sparkly earrings to go with my sparkly top. With grim determination I placed the small black flower in my hair and applied a little eye make-up.



How dare those women judge me!! What did they know about me that entitled them to form those all too obvious opinions? They knew nothing. All my life, it seems, I have encountered these hostile attitudes. The weird and totally frustrating thing is the attitude has surrounded me through all the different phases of my life – innocent, not so innocent, young mother, church member, scripture teacher, law clerk, single mum, dedicated mother, sex goddess, earth mother, high-flying glass ceiling bumper, sophisticate, hippy, humble house cleaner, carer, poor, well off, pretty, slim, fat, old, pathetic, proud – it just doesn’t matter what stage of life or what particular incarnation I am involved in, other women just don’t like me!


Could this be an endowment from Mother who sees slings and arrows in everything around her? Dear God, I hope not! I think I am conscious enough of her particular poison not to drink from that same cup.


Ironically I enjoy the company of other women and am a firm believer in the support of sisterhood. Some of my warmest memories swim around the love and support of ‘sisters’. Even those women however, ultimately judged me and found me wanting. Now that really is sad. The loss of that closeness presses in and affects me profoundly.


I used to be judgemental. When I was a young thing and life had not really begun with me, I would stand in judgement of those around me. Favourite thoughts started with things like “I would never”, “How could she”, “No matter what, I would never”, and so on and so forth. I think you get the picture. Life however had plans for me, and it soon knocked those thoughts out of my young head. As I progressively found myself doing pretty much all those things and more, I realised I was in no position to judge anyone. I read a wonderful book once where the author stated that when we judge others we do not define them, but rather ourselves as people who needed to judge. Wow! That was as they say, a light-bulb moment. I had by then ceased my judgemental ways, but had I had any inclination to continue on, that sure would have stopped me in my tracks!


All pretty impressive isn’t it? Weeellll, I suppose on some level, I am still out there judging away. Now I just don’t admit it, not even to myself. The very fact that those women yesterday managed to get under my skin proves that I am still in some way judging. The BIG REALISATION from the day tho’, is that it still matters to me what others think. How can that still be? Have I not payed any attention along the way and have I still not learnt even this most basic of lessons? It seems not! I guess when you really get down to it, it is not so much what they think of me that matters, it is more that THEY DON’T SEE ME!


Here I am 62 years old, and I have lived. I have lessons learnt, experiences to share, care to give, companionship to share, laughter to gift and tears to shed and yet nobody seems to see any of this. What do they see? In this case I suspect they saw a fat old woman, over-dressed by their lofty standards, with a superior attitude and quick mouth. Oh yes, I just cannot seem to resist throwing in my little gems of humour on these sort of occasions. Once upon a time they would have been good ice breakers, but now they seem to be spurned as inappropriate or embarrassing. I know they are not.


Of course, I am an outsider. I know that in country towns, they hate the tourist (ironically) and despise the townie. I would have thought tho’ that the clanship of gender, the love of literature and art would have nullified the trivialities of origin. It seems not. The stupid thing here of course, is that I am really neither of those things. I love this part of the world and would love to make it my home. I thought that the predominance of alternative thinkers, ‘arty-farty ‘ types etc would have meant that someone with an independent train of mind would have fitted right in. It would seem I was wrong in that thought. I have never really been ‘a townie’, even when I worked in Perth for all those years, commuting daily from the outer suburbs. Essentially I am a hill-billy having grown up in the hills. The Swan valley and Norseman were my holiday destinations as a child and from those areas I have gained an appreciation of country and farm life.


The farm girls yesterday were lovely, exuding that particular type of boisterousness that young country women do – even tho’ they (understandably) clove to their own buddies to the exclusion of others. In days gone by, I’m sure I have done exactly the same thing. One could see tho’ looking at their faces they were shining lights and I guess, probably not judgemental at all. They, one in particular, had a simplicity of nature that was endearing. One lass, who proclaimed herself a ‘visual artist’ appealed to me enormously as a person of value (good grief where did that come from – too many Jane Austin!?) – there was a light shining from her that illuminated the room. I think her name was Anne or Annie and I would guess that one could put one’s life in Annie’s care and be well rewarded. I am not one who can read auras, and am not even convinced of the veracity of those who claim they can do so, but there was an aura surrounding Annie – it bespoke of love, purity, humility and true charity. I wonder if she knows this about herself. Other women there seemed to be of similar ilk, but of course, this is all guess work.


There were a couple of other relatively young women, young mothers in fact, who were trying to reclaim their individual status as women, warriors and workers. I wish them luck. I really do.


Chatting to one of these young women, I voiced (all unasked) my opinion that those years when the children are still at the toddler stage, the woman at home and the fella working his butt off are very difficult for relationships. I do believe a couple who can withstand this period, will have fought and won one of the biggest battles couples are confronted with. If this young woman can find the time to be herself in the maelstrom of activity and giving, she just might avoid some of the feelings of inadequacy that seem to haunt so many of us in the years pursuant to childbirth. My own experience was that I put off being myself until retirement – not a fair go I think. This young woman reminded me strongly of a younger me. She was still very much the innocent, even tho’ I suspect her years may have almost numbered 40. She glowed with the aftermath of childbirth and the good intentions still harboured at that stage of life. I could see, sadly, the beginnings too, of the ‘unconvinced woman’ that so many of us become. Unconvinced that she deserved time for herself, unconvinced that she had anything worth giving, unconvinced time to write was worthwhile, unconvinced of her own value. She was a beautiful person, still unsullied by life’s sour experiences, yet unconvinced she should have a voice. I pray that she overcomes her feelings of unworthiness and finds her full potential as a person and a woman. I felt there was beauty of spirit encased in that pretty exterior. I hope she lets it shine and that life does not extinguish that flame.


Another young woman, a journalist, was also just starting back into the workforce having birthed her children. She had a lively energy and having heard a small piece she read aloud to us yesterday, I suspect a considerable talent. Her words were lyrical and perhaps journalism would sell her short. An unpublished novelest amongst us maybe! I would be disappointed to hear in years to come that she had not farmed her abilities and written the beauty that is inherently hers.


There was one other woman there, who instinctively I felt I could have found a bond with, probably largely because she was the closest in age to me. She sounded English and seemed to be endowed with that wonderful self effacing sense of humour some English women are graced with. I would have liked to chat with her but somehow that opportunity didn’t evolve. I think perhaps because she like most others, had friends there.


Katherine was interesting! Doug and I had seen her around town the previous couple of days, and had tagged her “that colourful woman” – an apt description. Katherine I suspect marches very much to the beat of her own drum. Her dress is eccentric and she truly has her own style and I would guess cares little of others’ opinions. I would like to think in fact that she would scorn others thoughts on her dress, style and life choices. She has a sharp mind and seemingly a very open thought process. How very refreshing. I guess she pretty much epitomises the sort of person I had imagined would live here. We would probably never be best mates, but I think we would have some very interesting discussions and would accept each other for the individuals we are.


Another woman, perhaps also somewhat of a kindred spirit, sat quietly at the back of the room! We had a couple of quiet words and I think we share a similar dilemma - that of the ethical question of writing family histories, memoirs, etc. We both, it seems have stories that really need to be told, and yet we risk hurting others in the telling. We both need to weigh up the value of our potential work against possible damage we may deal others as a result. I guess the question is whether or not the story is more of value to others, or more a cathartic experience for us, spewing forth all the accumulated pain of years gone by. Selfish or altruistic – that seems to be the crux!!


Rachel was lovely and although I was at a bit of a disadvantage probably being the only person in the room who had not previously read her book, I found her to be erudite and compassionate. I can see that as a teacher she would excel. She had a knack of drawing people out, encouraging their thoughts and rewarding them for participating. Not once did I feel that she displayed any impatience with group members, even tho’ I thought she may have been tested on a couple of occasions. Hers is a rare ability. I have opened her book this morning and whilst I have only read a couple of pages, the book already has me in its grip. I am not surprised, having met her yesterday, to discover that her son is an autistic person. That degree of patience and acceptance was probably born of the experience of mothering her son. Of course, the kernel must have been there to start with. How fortunate some of us are, that life grants us the opportunity to grow and develop those kernels with our life experiences! There is a theory that God will not send us any undertaking we are not capable of dealing with. I rather think that God gifts us with adversity. The knocks and blows that we encounter along the way mould and transform us into the people we become. It is the shallow dish that collects no rain!


The wonder of the day was Betty! Betty was 85 and to all intents and purposes has lived an extraordinary life. She electrified us with her earliest memory and fascinated us with tales of her life in New Guinea as a nurse and missionary. When we thought we had already heard the most incredible stories from her, she then thrilled us with the information that she had also piloted aeroplanes. Somewhere in amongst all these things she had birthed two children who have grown up to be a Dr and a barrister. What an amazing woman. I think that all of us who thought we had a story to tell, felt very humbled by Betty’s stories. Now there is a woman who really does have a story to tell. I hope that she gets all that wonderful information down on paper before her life here is over. What inspiring stories she has to tell and how much that inspiration is needed today.


So, who then was it that nettled me and drove me to the keyboard this morning? I guess it really only leaves ‘the alternatives’. There have been many terms couched to describe this particular type of person. Hippy, Orange, Feral, etc, etc, I think you probably get the picture. I am trying hard not to be judgemental here, but simply stating the status quo as I saw it.


We had the company of a few of these women. I would have thought I would have found some kind of bond with these women, as I have a fairly compromising thought process and do not fit into any conventional ‘box’ so to speak. Instead, I was surprised to find that I felt judged by them! It has surprised me to find that these people, who consider themselves to be outside of the norm, individuals and visionaries, are more judgemental than the average housewife. Yes, I know that is a damming statement, both to me and these alternative women.


Firstly, I found that they challenged my desire not to judge. One of the ladies obviously finds that soap of any kind is a major sin and exercised her right not to use soap or deodorant. I respect that right, but find it a little selfish that she would expose the rest of us to the dubious benefit of her very obvious body odour. It may not matter to those she lives with, but in close quarters, the rest of us may have a small problem. I must explain here that despite the odour the lady in question looked very clean. Unfortunately, I am particularly subject to unpleasant odours and found that experience a little less than wonderful. I am pleased I was not sitting next to her.


These women chose not to wear make-up, colour their hair or improve their appearance using artificial devices. I really respect their decision and even understand the rationale behind their choices. On a purely logical basis, I agree with their decisions. From an ecological point of view, I think they are right and they are as they say, ‘talking the talk and walking the walk’. I applaud their courage and perspicacity. What I find totally confounding and most disappointing tho’ was their very apparent judgement of others, myself in particular.


I felt wave upon wave of disapproval emanating from some of these women. I suppose I am almost the devil incarnate from their perspective. I am grossly overweight – hence my disregard of millions of starving children, I wear make-up – neglecting the planet, I colour my hair – disempowering my crone status and diminishing my womanhood no doubt. My clothes were all synthetic and I wore jewellery. How very, very sad!


Sadder still is the fact that they have become what they most despise. Judgemental and condemning of those who are not like them! Surely when they all left home, all those years ago, that was one of the false values they were trying to escape. How interesting that they all unwittingly have imitated their doubtless very judgemental mothers. Dare I use the word – intolerant! It would seem that these individual spirited women are no less subject to the old mother daughter syndrome than the rest of us.


Of course, I am over-stating the situation somewhat. Not all these women frowned at me, and I’m sure not all of them judged me. It just felt that way. When I bought my ticket for the day, I didn’t give any thought to the possibility of an all female adventure, but once I realised that was the case, I think my spirits flew a little at the promise of a day bathed with the warmth of the female psyche – it fell a little short of that!

I guess part of my disappointment was too, that the vast majority of women there had a predisposition to the use of what might be loosely termed psycho-babble words. A sort of false -feeling spiritualism involving much discussion about symbolism and such! I find it really difficult to put this one into sensible words and find myself floundering along in a puddle of self-depreciation as I seek meaning to my disconsolate mood. I consider myself to be a spiritual person, open minded and perhaps just a little bit alternative – but something about yesterday left me wanting. Oh wait, Oh no, I think, I guess, Oh Bugger, I think perhaps it was what Doug calls D.O.B.!


That my dears, means that my age was my problem – not the other women. My age left me feeling on the outer. The vast majority of the women there were considerably younger than me, and Betty bless her soul, has sufficient years not to even notice the attitude of others. How wonderful would that be?


I think perhaps that I just missed having someone of my own there who I could identify with and with whom I could commiserate about life’s inequities and challenges. I missed the humour that is intrinsic to my generation and that certain feeling of belonging. In essence I think that all the women there were amazing, beautiful and spiritual beings. The fault lay within and not without.


Well, how interesting to find that I still have a lot to learn and a long way to go on this journey called life – the journey that juxtaposes with my attempt to achieve true womanhood.


Steph.

TIS THE SEASON

Memories of Wild Flower Trip

At our doorstep

Can you believe we are now in late November 2011??!! Just where did the last 12 months go? I hope and trust that the last 12 months have been kind to you and yours and sincerely wish you a wonderful, happy, healthy and prosperous 2012.

Last time we spoke, we had just accepted an offer to stay at a pretty 50 acre property around 50-60ks north of Perth in a picturesque area called Bullsbrook. My darling DD keeps looking for the bull folks! He feels sure that there is some old hoary beast lurking alongside the local brook and hence the name!
I mentioned too that my daughter in law was having a few health issues. Well, as these things go, the health issues escalated just as we moved considerably further away from their home. We received an emergency call the day after we moved, advising us that Nom had once again been taken to hospital. As my son Brett had flown out to Sydney the day before on business there was quite a problem. Brett’s long time mate Brook, who should from here on be known as BTB (Brook the Brave) BTB had responded to Nom’s emergency call during the early hours of the morning and had hastened to their home to stay with Daniel the furiously fast four year old and Jack the jaunty 10 month old. BTB, bless his bachelor socks had stayed the night and then somehow, without any real idea of what he was doing, fed and dressed both the boys, ironed his shirt (with baby under arm) and managed to deposit them at day-care before getting himself off to work.
His plaintive call reached us mid morning. The brave and wonderful man was, he said, willing to sally forth back into the fray that evening and do it all again, but he was not quite sure that he would be able to cope very well. What an amazingly good mate he is. We had little choice but to give a backward glance at our new country abode and make haste for the ‘burbs’ again.
One of the problems associated with looking after the boys, is the matter of appropriate car-seats. Of course, these days one cannot just grab the kids and throw them into the back seat as we would once have done. As those of our generation well know, back in the dark ages, we would have just placed the 4yo in the back of the car and I would have nursed the baby. Not today of course. Now we are not very experienced in all this new fangled stuff and as the Cruiser (Zed) is a very large vehicle, we were unsure about how to transfer the car seats from Nom’s toy car into our big bus. This meant that DD had to drive the little silver toy that Nom drives. The toy is a manual, and yours truly, whilst holding a licence to drive a manual, has not driven one since acquiring her licence (you know, back then when Noah was a boy!!) As you all know we are fairly large people! My proportions, whilst not tall are very wide and DD is tall and nowhere near as sylph-like as he once was. DD also sports a size 13 foot and has habitually driven automatics for the past ............years. So........... after managing to squeeze ourselves into the toy (remember we are used to Zed where one almost needs a ladder to gain access) we proceeded to drag our bottoms along the road – at least that is how it felt – whilst bunny-hopping from spot to spot. DD was having terrible trouble with the clutch and the brake as his large foot seemed unable to move from one to the other smoothly and the ability to manipulate each pedal independently of the other was causing quite some stress. At the same time, my right thigh my dears, was attracting more attention than it had seen since we re-connected some 9 years ago! This was as a result of the gear stick being situated somewhere around my mid thigh. We must have made quite a spectacle, with DD hunched over the steering wheel (where else was he going to hunch?) and me squished up against the passenger door.

Basking in the late sunlght

Anyway to cut a long story short we had a couple of days and nights where we proceeded across to pick the boys up from day-care, stayed the night and then drove back to our ‘country estate’ in an exhausted state the following morning. Oh, just one more humorous tale to relate here. Young Daniel, the fast and furious four year old, has a habit of stealing into the main bedroom in the early hours of the morning. The process went a little like this, as one was sleeping lightly, with one ear posted for any sounds on the monitor in the baby’s room, one would hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet through the room, followed by the soft thud of the overnight ‘pull-ups’ hitting the floor in the en-suite. Then I would hear the musical tinkling of a wee in the loo followed by the soft foot-falls re-entering the bedroom. There the fiendish intelligence of the four year old cut in as Daniel, rather than risk refusal by trying to climb into bed next to us, would quietly insert himself into the bed from the other end, tucking in the process, his small but cold and bony feet into my doubtless warm and soft bottom. Now there followed about 3 hours (well at least 30 minutes) of twitching and squirming until he finally found his way back to the land of nod.
Now I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here, on the first night, there was only one person conscious of this activity, as all through the process we were accompanied by the loud and vigorous snores emanating from DD’s side of the bed. In the morning, DD awoke reasonably refreshed only to find a fairly fractious and irritable old woman in the kitchen. The second night however, my beautiful man wasn’t sleeping quite so soundly and after Daniel had once again inserted his cold little bod into the other end of the bed, DD would periodically sit bolt upright in bed and peer in an alarmed manner at the foot of the bed. I would then murmur something reassuring about it only being Daniel and DD would subside back down under the covers and the snores would then increase in volume as he sought to find a deeper sleep. After this entertaining (not) behaviour had repeated itself a few times, Daniel started to whine also. When I somewhat caustically asked him what the matter was, he informed me in a very peeved and hurt tone that he “just wanted him (DD) to go to sleep!” Eventually somewhere around 4.30 DD informed me that he felt he would have to go and sleep on the couch. Now girls, I think that this was my cue to do something heroic like demur gently that no, indeed it would be me to go to the couch, or that I would risk waking the entire household by moving Daniel unwillingly back to his own room, but my dears, by that time, having been up to Jack a couple of times, having settled both DD and Daniel back to sleep a couple of times, I was in no mood for self-sacrifice. To what must have DD’s considerable disappointment I said with great feeling “Well one of you certainly has to go!” At that my DD wandered sadly out to the very commodious and quite comfortable couch. Poor boy!
Anyway, we all lived through the experience and Nom has since then been fine. Hopefully we are finally at the end of the whole birth and subsequent ill health episode. Jack will turn one on the 30th November and doubtless, Brett and Nom will look back at this past year in some wonder in the future, wondering indeed how they all survived.
During all of this, Mother was having major problems with her eyes and we were also involved in taking her to a series of appointments with GPs, opticians and eye specialists, none of whom could find any evidence of any new problems, or indeed any further deterioration of mum’s eyesight. The trouble had started on the very day that I had taken her home after our wild-flower tour. She said it was just as if someone had dropped a shade over her eyes. This situation seems not to have changed a great deal since then I’m sad to say. Tomorrow we take her to the Blind society to have yet another test done and to determine what if any aids will make her life a little easier. This is all very hard to digest as she has just been declared fit to drive for yet another 12 months.
We, mum and I that is, had yet another falling out, this time as a result of her lack of trust in me. I won’t go into gory details, suffice to say when she does these sorts of things, it feels very much like a blow to the solar plexus (that’s a kick in the guts for anyone who needs a translation) and it takes some time to recover from the subsequent hurt. She is indeed a hard person to love from time to time, and yet, God help me, I do love her. Oh well, it has never been particularly easy, why should it change now at this late stage?
Well, all of this and I still haven’t told you about Bullsbrook! As I said earlier it is around 50ks north of Perth situated alongside the Gt Northern Highway. The property belongs to the daughter of a friend. We had visited our mates while they were looking after the place for their daughter and her husband. There is a long and convoluted story attached to the place, but in simple terms, our friend’s daughter and her husband purchased the property around 1 year ago with the intention of moving both their home and their business here. Due to some issues with disclosure (or more accurately lack of disclosure) they were unable to move the business here. The property went straight back on the market and hopefully in the not too distant future, some resolution to some sticky legal matters will be resolved for the owners.
The owners are a delightful young couple with 4 kids, their own thriving business and a super busy lifestyle. The property consists of 50 acres of undulating pasture and native bush. The bush is a glorious mish- mash of majestic trees, gravel, sand and banks of banksia and native Christmas Trees. Due to some regulatory matters the property is deemed almost to be a nature reserve and as such is a haven for the wild creatures which abound in this area.
There are two old houses on the property and for the first 6 weeks or so that we were here we had the whole place gloriously to ourselves. There are now two of the couple’s employees installed in the other house, but we rarely see them.
We have declined the chance to move our stuff (still in storage) into the house and have opted instead to stay in the van. I have however made myself a studio inside the house and we use the veranda each afternoon to watch the shadows lengthen over the land and see the roos come out of hiding to forage.
There is a lovely swimming pool which we are making good use of and I have to say we are loving being here. The peace and quiet are addictive. For excitement, we are quite close to the RAAF base and so are entertained quite frequently with the comings and goings of the aeroplanes and helicopters from the base.

Splendid Fellow

We are spoilt for bird life. We have all the usual suspects in maggies, mudlarks, butcher birds, ringnecks, galahs, black cockatoos and of course a couple of crows. In addition to all of these we also have splendid wrens and amazingly a couple of red cap parrots. Of course we have taken to putting feed out for the birds on a daily basis (as the practice was before we arrived) and now also put out feed for the roos. It is an absolute delight to sit on the veranda in the late afternoon and watch the antics of the wildlife.
We have been fortunate enough to see this place at it’s very best as we arrived at the peak of spring. The grasses were verdantly green and the wild-flowers were prolific. Now we have fields of gold decorated with the olive green of grass trees and the vivid orange of the Christmas trees. We are sooooooo spoilt!

A couple of the locals

The place is a magnet for anyone who cherishes the peace and quiet of the Australian bush and we have found that visitors fall in love with the tranquillity. We have had a few visitors and love having people come to share our world with us. Because of all the space, and an empty house there is plenty of room for friends and family to visit, even to bring a van and set up camp for a couple of days. We are on the power grid but have no scheme water. A bore supplies water for the garden and pool and a large rain tank provides water for the house.
We have decided that if we cannot be on the road then this is a pretty good substitute. Of course, as the place is on the market, we don’t really know just how long we will be able to stay here. With all of this in mind, we have made the somewhat difficult decision to travel to Tasmania early next year. The intention, was until a week or so ago, to leave mid January and return mid- year. We were (and still are) very happy and excited at the prospect.
Fate, as it will do, has stepped in however. DD went off to his GP a week ago to have his 6 monthly check up and to get his medication for the next 6 months. While there he mentioned that he had been very tired of late and his very careful Dr decided to have a good look at him. Thank God that he did! It turned out that his heart beat was very irregular. This meant a fast appointment to see a cardiologist. Long story short – atrial fibrillation was the diagnosis. DD is now on medication to regulate his heart beat and also on blood thinning medication. Blood tests every 4-5 days will determine how much of the thinners he needs in preparation for an ultrasound to ensure that there are no blood clots formed in the heart. Once everything is stabilised then they will ‘shock’ the heart in an attempt to get it back into the correct rhythm. This, we are told is usually successful. If the shock treatment fails then we think it will be a matter of medication ad finitum.
Since starting the first medication to regulate his heart beat, DD has been sleeping much better, his snoring has decreased in volume and his sleep apnoea seems to have improved considerably. It is interesting and something to be aware of – if anyone you know has sleep apnoea, it is recommended that they have their heart beat checked! It seems there may be a correlation between the two problems.
All of this of course, sent me into a spin and I dare say frightened the you know what out of our lad. Doug being Doug tho’, he has handled the whole thing with great aplomb and considerable calm (unlike me) and has an unassailably positive outlook. That is something we do share. We are both confident that this episode with turn out well and a better quality of health for Doug will be the outcome.
This has all coincided with a major health campaign we had already embarked on. We are on a diet and we are as a result of the necessity of moving around a great deal more on this property already feeling fitter and healthier. The pool is a major plus and every afternoon when it is warm enough (and sometimes when it is not!) we are out there enjoying and exercising (in a gentle and restrained way of course).

From the veranda as the long shadows fall

Onwards and upwards is our war cry, albeit, perhaps not to Tassie quite so soon. DD doesn’t go back to the cardiologist for a check up until mid Jan and from there they will plan the shock treatment. We are not sure how much longer we will have to wait after that, but have hopes that we will get away early February. We have high hopes of still going to Tassie, but being the positive types that we are, if that is vetoed, then we will simply find another closer spot to visit. It is tough, because Mum does need us so much more now, but we really do have to look to ourselves and our own needs. This latest health scare is a huge wake up call – not that we really needed one, we were already aware of the risks we are taking in not doing what we wish to do, but at the end of the day, it has to be somewhat of a juggling act.
In the midst of all various dramas, we have celebrated being together for nine whole years! It seems impossible, but there you are. I have also managed to do some reasonable (and some unreasonable) paintings and we have managed to have both fun and some peace and quiet.


We join to wish you all a harmonious and joyous Christmas and New Year.


Doug & Steph