Bridie, the cat, managed to disappear at the last minute after we had bought her a new carry cage, booked her a spot on the plane, and kept her locked in all night and most of the morning, then refused to emerge from where she was hiding when we called. As a result of her antics, I was stressed, my son was disappointed in not getting the cat of his dreams, and our poor friend had to spend his holidays checking up on her and providing food and water. Considering she was a wild farm kitten, covered in fleas, full of worms, and starving, that my other son donated to me after he saved her from being shot by a farmer, she has not proved to be very grateful. Not only does she have fussy taste in food, spurn us when outside, and cover the house and us with fur, she turns down an interstate holiday and the chance of being the only animal in a large house. Spoiled brat!
Then, once we got to Melbourne, we started a series of marathon road trips.
After leaving the dogs at the family home, we had to go to a funeral in Mt. Gambier which proved to be very sad in more ways than one. Very few people knew that the deceased had been ill or died, so many who would have liked to be there were absent. The service was very short and the celebrant got lots of facts, including his name, wrong. The eulogy was limited to one person who appeared not to know him well, and omitted mentioning some important facts about his life, including his relations with friends and family. Such a shame when one has lived 96 years, has been well respected and loved, and led a very interesting and fulfilled life, inspiring many others in the community. I believe that funerals should be celebrations of a person's life and their effects on others, and love funerals where lots of people reminisce about the deceased. At the best of funerals, there should be at least as much laughter as tears. Sometimes, I think I would like funerals to be like the ones conducted by Ender in Orson Scott Card's the "Speaker of the Dead" (1986), where a neutral speaker sums up a person's life, including flaws, so that the survivors understand them, but I think most people prefer to focus just on the good aspects of the deceased, and participating in a positive service does help to heal the survivors.
On the up side, we got to spend some time with family we had not seen for a long time, caught up with my eldest son and his family, and my mother in law agreed to have Christmas lunch with us (early, so the kids could share Christmas day with in-laws).
On the trip back to Melbourne, we re-explored Western Victoria, where hay-making and harvesting of wheat were in full swing, rediscovered the fantastic cafe we had discovered in Dunkeld on the previous trip, where we bought some "sheep yard Flat Reserve Port", which is " a full- bodied blend of sheep dags, toe nail clippings and sheep dog's pee...... And meticulously strained through a jillaroo's undies". And I got a lot of embroidery done on my new quilt on the drive.
The family dinner was fantastic since it included all generations - from great- grandma to babies, and cousins, in- laws - and friends, lots of presents, laughter and bad jokes. The food was a fiasco in one sense since I mistimed the veggies, but we all ate enough food to feed a small town and still had leftovers for people to take home. Plus, Barbados rum added to Nick and Jess' fruit punch, and some nice beer and wine kept the mood mellow. The ham and turkey were good, but the desserts were magnificent: Elle's berry and mango meringue concoction, and berry and pavlova concoction, Derica's incredible rum filled Xmas pudding, fresh berries, custard, Jon's chocolate peppermint ice- cream, Jessie's incredible raspberry cake, and Jon's chocolate birthday cake (from Helena's Cakes in Camberwell market). Yummmeeeee.
Everyone seemed to like their Patapanart gifts, and I got a new book from Kris Kringle to inspire me further: "Printing by Hand" by Lena Corwin, which I plan to put to good use. Among some really great gifts, I got some "arty" ones. My niece, the sculptor Jessie McLennan, gave my son and I one of her sketch sculptures each.
The next day it, was off to Mt. Gambier on a 5 1/2 hour road trip ( more time for embroidery) with grandson 2 and his mum, stopping at the Lake Bolac pub, which is very old and made of bluestone, for some nice fish and chips and friendly service. We were pretty taken by some of the work of a local craftsperson who makes clocks from old shearer's blades. As you do, I collected flattened and rusted bottle tops from the carpark, to add to some future piece. Don't know what the drinkers looking out the window thought.
Mt. Gambier was fun as our two dogs made friends with my sons two dogs ( and contributed to wrecking the back yard - they seem to be trying to dig to China underneath the back porch steps) and treated their two cats with a lot of respect and fear, as dogs should. We helped my son, wife and son move into their newly purchased, Mt. Gambier stone house, and gave endless advice on revamping the garden. We had several very nice meals from and in local restaurants. And, as usual, we were struck by the generosity and friendliness of the locals. We were invited to a magnificent Christmas lunch in the beautifully restored and extended home of my daughter-in-law's friends. Not only did they include us into the celebration with their extended family, but we were made to feel very welcome, given gifts, and even presented with 2 take-away bags of oysters, which proved to be very tasty indeed.
The day before we set off for the return trip to Melbourne, we discovered that the radiator of the car had died. Luckily, my son is a mechanic. He located a new one in Warnambool, lent us his car, and we drove 2 hours through wind and rain to pick it up, returned in two more hours to the mount, and he installed it an hour later. Phew!
Then, it was time for Road Trip Number 6 back to Melbourne in the rejuvenated car. I drove most of the way, so no embroidery. Luckily, the weather had improved and there was little traffic, but I am not impressed by the deteriorating state of Victoria's roads. Putting warning signs up is no remedy for pot-holes. Spend more money on infrastructure!
A day's break in Melbourne saw us at our third Xmas party - a very enjoyable bar-b-q at Laura and Long's with oodles of great meat, colourful vegetable shasliks and beautiful salads, laughing children and, once again, thoughtful presents. Desserts were, as usual, out of this world: berries and Tres Leches cake. On the art side, my friend, Trish, gave me a lovely little bell made by potter Shoko Mafune, who I intend to keep an eye on in the future.
The next day, New Year's Eve, we were off to Bairnsdale, via Pakenham, with my daughter number 2 and her son. Gippsland is very different to the Western District, which is much older in terms of settlement. No bluestone or extinct volcanoes, less scraped landscapes from years of ring-barking trees, less plantations of pines and eucalypts. I am very fond of the rolling hills near Yarragon, and mourn that Melbourne is gradually creeping towards them as the government encourages the destruction of good farm land and the destruction of wild country. I embroidered on the way, and nobly did not insist on stopping at every craft store along the way, so we got to Bairnsdale in the expected 3 hours.
Bairnsdale was, as usual, a haven of rest in an idyllic location - between the ocean and Gippsland Lakes and the mountains. My mother- in law's home is in an acre of lovely garden and, perched on a ledge, looks out over the Mitchell River, farmed river flats, and distant mountains. Beautiful. Grandson number 1 had fun cuddling the chickens, digging in the vegetable bed, and collecting beetles. He obligingly accompanied us to River Grill, a very good restaurant in the town, where I enjoyed an Asian style dish of muscovy duck and a very moreish dessert of honey creme brulee and stewed rhubarb, while grandson ate my icecream.
Only too soon, we returned to Melbourne on our 8th and last road trip - I swear my hips are resisting being forced out of the chair postion they have been stuck in during these car trips. Everyone kindly let me stop in Yarragon for cofee and a quick visit to my favourite gallery, Town and Country Gallery. Once again I displayed self-sacrifice and did not invest in the gorgeous amber necklaces, the oil paintings, the hand crafted furniture and the glassware I lusted after. My embroidery, as usual, benefited from the drive.
Collapsing in a very hot Melbourne (today is 41 degrees), I got to catch up with old friends and more relatives, play with my two eldest grandchildren, pat the neighbours cats, hear about the Falls Festival from a very sunburned ( he calls it "Tanned") Son Number 2, eat cup-cakes made by my young friend, Gemma, and pay vast amounts of money to the vet, the cost of being told that my dogs, who have been coughing all week, will mend without any medication. I swear these animals are not worth the nurturing I give them, and give me more worry than I deserve. Why do I love them?
So, I have survived 2012 and my entrance into my new career as artist and blogger and am looking forward to expanding the markets for my work, developing my art, and discovering new food, in 2013. I would never have got this far without the encouragement of friends and family, and the hands-on help of my daughter, Kate, of "kaetoo" Canvas Photo Boards. Thank you all!
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