bilateral kellerberrin

Thankfully, a very quiet day yesterday, mainly spent writing in this blog. Egad! How self-referential can you get? Here’s hoping this next week (the final one!) is not ONLY filled with blog damage-control and incessant references to the upcoming exhibition and film screenings.

(By the way, if you want all the details of the show, I have created a new page called “IASKA exhibition info” – click on the link at the right…)

So, let’s see. I woke up before noon, and ducked down to the op shop to see if I could catch the elusive lady who said she had found me some silver buttons to go with my Vern Wright Fire Brigade suit. No cigar. The op shop ladies who were there “took a note” in their exercise book, in case she comes in. But since I never caught her name at the time, it’s tricky.

Let’s see. She was there when I bought the suit, which is where we had our original buttons discussion. I bumped into her again at the Anzac Day ceremony outside the shire offices. This is when she told me that she had succeeded in locating the buttons for me. But I have never seen her again. She has neat, straight, short, possibly whitish hair, I think. And she was quite a small lady.

Hmm. Only a week to go. If I really want those buttons (and I do!) I shall have to put a classifieds ad in the Pipeline tomorrow. That’s all there is to it!

(Brief pause as I strike the hot iron)…

OK, so here is my Pipeline classifieds ad:

Wanted
Silver Buttons for vintage Kellerberrin Volunteer Fire Brigade suit. As worn previously by Vern Wright. Can the op-shop lady who kindly found me some buttons please get in touch? Apologies, I have forgotten your name and don’t know how to contact you.
Call Lucas (IASKA artist) on XXXX XXX XXX

After the op shop, I had other domestic chores. You see, everything shuts down for the weekend after 1pm on Saturday, so it’s really not a good day to sleep in. I went to the butcher, where I was hoping to get some fresh milk in exchange for my empty glass bottles, but Mark said they hadn’t had a delivery. Instead, I bought some frozen barramundi. I thought I had better get some fish, if only to keep Toby happy.

Toby is Mark’s butchery offsider, and the big fish advocate. I forgot to mention it, but he bailed me up in the pub after Jag the Joker on Friday night. Why hadn’t I bought any fish lately? he wanted to know. Fish sales were down because of me! He dictated a recipe for a prawn curry which sounded good. He also mentioned that he’d recently cooked a good meal with field mushrooms, which you can find growing around Keller at this time of year. He likes cooking, does our Toby. He’s originally from the UK, but he doesn’t think he could ever go back there to live. It’s too miserable a place.

I also beat a path to the co-op for some vegies. There I bumped into Annetta, the gallery lady. Annetta has had troubles with her right eye. Complications after a cataract operation. She’s not happy with the doctor who did the op, and says she sometimes sees bright points of light flashing around her eye. She calls it her “bionic eye.”

These chores accomplished, the town wound down and I retreated for an afternoon of writing.

Later on, Chris arrived from Perth for a visit. He had brought with him a chessboard, but didn’t get very far into the game: we were watching Dame Edna on the ABC and couldn’t stop laughing. After midnight, we went for a walk down the road towards the rubbish tip. We didn’t get quite that far, but it felt good to stretch my legs. The air was not cold at all. As we walked we could hear frogs, our coats rustling, and our own voices, as we rabbited on about the similarities between trees and neurons, the idea of empathy, and the “ethics of disclosure”.