The Long Way Home - Chapter 8 - Gladstone Day 6

It has rained during the night. I didn’t hear it but the ground is wet and the windows have evidence of the showers. The night was hot and muggy. At one stage Robyn arose and turned on the fans directed at the bed. Although a relief it only served to remind me of the perspiration accumulated in my PJ’s, heavy and moist with the weight of water.

The C-Pap machine suggests I have slept for more than 10 hours and I feel better for it than yesterday. Not consuming any alcohol yesterday may have also contributed to the present feeling – just saying. Not that we are heavily consuming on a regular basis but we have been having a drink every night and two nights ago an entire bottle of wine lost its way.

I normally take the time prior to Robyn arising to be at my computer to clear emails and my head, seeking to set a goal for the day. As soon as she wakes and turns on the TV the difficulty in concentrating is increased tenfold. I might as well go back to bed.

There is no escape in the van. The close proximity is there all the time. We work across from each other on a table that is only just big enough to accommodate the two laptops. I have a second screen perched on an upside down box on the seat, reinforced with several layers of making tape which, inverted, doubles as a receptacle for the peripherals, cords, microphone, tripod etc when we are on the move. Necessity is the mother of invention.

The close proximity and the TV make it impossible to use the talk while typing option to record blogs. It’s not just the accumulated noise, Robyn finds my turn of phrase to be somewhat unappealing to her at times, especially when we are discussing issues like the “one job” sledges.

My efforts from yesterday have been thwarted by the architecture of the website. Uploaded photographs and blogs to the new theme have disappeared. Apparently in a “user error” moment I have done something, or more correctly, not done something to ensure the new book takes its rightful place on the site. Its Saturday so even though I have emailed the developer, I do not expect an answer until Monday.

No problem, I can focus on other business pursuits.

There is a new marketing application I am keen to install for Property Portfolio Solutions. The Business Blueprint organisation has excellent training videos on the subject and I settle in with the expectation that by the end of the video I will not only understand the application but have it ready to all but install. I am stymied with internet speeds and give up as the buffering kills any chance of continuity of concentration.

Cousin John Parnaby, working today, is expected to contact us as he finishes up mid afternoon with the idea of a get together over an alcoholic libation and nibbles at their home. By noon the sun is shining and I am conflicted whether to start some accounting work or just sit and watch day four of the Pink Test which is in the balance.

I take the former option as it is the right thing to do and start accumulating media for the completion of a conglomerate of entities for a client of both Property Portfolio Solutions and Banks Consultancy (the accounting practice). I won’t be able to complete the tasks today but I will certainly be able to make “a large hole” in it.

My heart is not in it although I get part of the assignment done for now.The cricket gives us a second century to Usman Khwaga and is a delightful alternative to the work. 

In time we are off to John’s place where we are faced with the entire Gladstone Parnaby Clan rather than the intimate gathering we were expecting. Everyone has brought something to nibble including some large prawns.

The conversation is lively, surrounding the missing of the talent gene that this leg of the Ferguson Family seemed to miss. There is talk of very bad karaoke. Of course the rendition of the “Talking Bum”, a legend of Ferg Fest, a family reunion of some years ago. At this event each family stream of my maternal grandmother was required, as part of the evening get together after the main festivities (where the Easter Bunny made an appearance and in true country style was attacked and “taken into custody”) was required to bring a “piece of entertainment”.

My mothers side of the family is very musically blessed. Many are professional entertainers, most unable to read music just pick up instruments and seem to be able to play them. My oldest son Justin is one of these, and he has the voice to go with it. Kirsten needs to be able to follow a musical script but also has the gene. After having formal saxophone lessons she taught herself the piano and violin. Her voice however is not of the same quality of Justin. Julian, my middle son, was one of those who missed out.

The night was filled with highlights. There was a reappearance of the Sockettes, a group of an uncle and two tall cousins who in a previous family reunion, dressed in singlets and shorts and wearing hobnailed boots and brightly coloured wigs proceeded to perform part of the classic Swan Lake dance routine to the hysterical joy of the crowd.

There was Uncle Brolga whose Johnny Cash-like singing had the mainly country style audience singing along. Justin and a cousin who at times goes by the stage name Two Dogs at the higher end of the professional performances. Other not so talented performers, much in the manner of a drunken karaoke evening, plied their trade, paying their homage to the event including a full on version of I Was High. This amazing performance, captured on video, is not fit for public viewing. Having said that, it was hugely funny.

Then it was the turn of the Parnaby’s. Bruce fell on his sword and moved towards the microphone. Once in front of the crowd he lowers the back of his pants revealing butt cheeks and proceeds to do a version of the Talking Bum which has his hands holding the pants and moving his fingers, mouthlike and quoting verse. Again the hysterical joy of the crowd erupts which encourages him to continue.

On a property, the present spiritual home of the Ferguson Clan, not far out of Condobolin we entertain ourselves well into the early morning with each act receiving nothing but raucous ovations.

That’s our family.

In time, the discussion moves to what we might do tomorrow. With the rain event of the past week, several ideas are discarded quickly. There is a plan and we head back to the van with a plan and head off to bed ready to take on the next day.