I love (Happy) Damp Endings…
Things have been a little full-on here at Granite Glen over the last week. It’s school holidays here in Queensland and we have had visitors galore. I adore having people to stay, but drive myself to a standstill preparing to have them (read: attempting to de-clutter and de-dust and de-mice the place). To say I undertook a major transformation would be an understatement. And I nearly got there. As you shall see.
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Our first batch of guests were Salina and Jeanie. As you may know, these guys are pretty regular here so they don’t get the full benefits of the GG makeover prior to arrival. Sorry Jeanie! Beds were made and rooms cleared in general, but the ironing and laundry piles were still mini-Everests in my living and laundry rooms. Salina played hard with Dash and TLW and vanished regularly with Pagi, mustering up a storm on Yvette (S won a promotion, with poor Lacey suffering a sore eye).
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Jeanie slaved her little heart out sorting cattle on our computer (tricky, you say, but I am of course speaking metophorically…I think!). She is a genius, and was a sight to behold conducting figurative symphonies with TWO laptops in front of her at our kitchen table.
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My city SIL and three children plus one 17-year-old nephew arrived a few days later. Now my SIL’s in general are a rare breed – gorgeous, fun, domestic goddesses. Cows. No, really, I love ’em but just one dag among them would have been nice. To keep me company and all. Anyhoo… P and I had planned their little Granite country sojourn well ahead. Maps were faxed. Directions dictated. Travel times estimated so no night-time driving would be needed. Appropriate clothing and footwear discussed. Progress calls dialed in on schedule.
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Then, as I prepared for State of Origin (football) night whipping up pizzas for a few more guests (I am a glutton for punishment), I got a call from SSB’s brother (not the one that is P’s hubby).
BIL R is a bit of a prankster and had been on a social bull inspection trip with a mate (translation: regular pub-stops at various small country towns) when he said:
‘P’s broken down, I’ve just come across here south of the Springs’
(The Springs are a good two-hour drive from his home)…
Well, call me cynical but I just didn’t believe him.
He insisted. I asked for details. He stood by his story.
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Apparently, P’s very flash 4WD wagon had come to an abrupt stop 350km into their journey. She had popped the hood to indicate to passing traffic that she needed help. No-one stopped. She called on the two-way radio. No response. She was shocked – this is in the country where everyone is supposed to help everyone. But no. Lone woman with kids does not attract Knights in Shining Armour. Then a car finally pulled up and her brother-in-law stepped out. Surreal. And so BIL R dashed off, White Knight-style, and got some oil and called me.
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As dark fell, our city visitors nursed their car the final 150km of their 500km journey with BIL shepherding them. SSB went in to escort them the final 20km on our dirt road.
Poor P couldn’t see a thing in the dark and dust – she thought she was driving into the depths of bumpkin hell, I’m sure.
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She finally pulled up at the gates of Granite Glen, and piled into the warmth of our living room, already crowded with people and home-made pizzas.
The fire was blazing in the fireplace and the State of Origin blaring on the TV. Without even asking, I poured her a well-earned chardonnay. I’ve never seen anyone so grateful for a cool drink in my life! The very least I could do was have a glass or two with her… I may not be a great housekeeper, but I know this part of being a good hostess!…
The following days were packed with horse and pony rides…
The following days were packed with horse and pony rides…
Bullseye… is that you under there?
… and bull feeding…
(Trust me, they P is enjoying all that hay in her shoes. Really!)
We also did paddock tours, more cooking, catering for more family members and a couple of very late nights into the following 48 hours. With 11 people sleeping over, and another 28 visiting for night-time gatherings it was slightly chaotic but lots of fun.
And exhausting for little possums…
While cousins L and E were all smiles after dark, TLW was gallant but bit the dust in front of the TV at night.And through it all, with people whirling through a big old house, cyclonic-fashion, with food-making and raucous conversation thrown in, Jeanie was still tapping away silently on her laptops in the eye of the storm. Her focus was something to behold.
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P and co seemed to enjoy their bush bash… although I am not going to discuss the various ‘Ooohh, you stood in poooo!’ conversations… or the dead mouse discovered by cousin J’s mattress as we packed up. We are all still recovering from both the sight of the still-warm rodent carcase about three inches from J’s pillow and Cousin L’s screeching reaction to it. (I could have said something about the many dozens who had already been cleared from the general vicinity before their arrival, but decided against this tack. The mental images might have done them in.) And, like I said, I am not discussing these issues any further… you can’t make me.
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The aftermath of having visitors is always a weird stillness. And piles of laundry. And lots of smiles at mental images gathered during our rellies stay. Of kids sliding around on trotting ponies, tentatively holding out sheafs of hay to belching bovines, and the startled expression on my weaner bulls faces at the technicolour get-ups brought by Dash’s cousins for yard attire. Our city visitors certainly assisted in my weaner-quietening endeavours. Purple paisley holds no terrors for them anymore, that’s for certain!
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As I take stock, my chardonnay levels are looking a little low. My laundry powder seems to be down to the last scoop. And my waistline almost completely vanished. But it was sooooo worth it. Thanks for Braving the Bush P and co! Looking forward for the Real Deal at Christmas!
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And thanks Jeanie for proving again, you have the best set of mental blinkers of any individual I know. Your blood is totally worth bottling! And I mean that sincerely.
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And now there is one week of holidays to go. Bullseye is happily recovering from teaching city kids to ride, and enjoying the steady drizzle of rain that arrived as our guests leave.
But the kids are cooped up and missing their cousins and the Big Question is: Can BB and co survive rainy holidays at home?
Only time will tell.
Wish me luck!
Hugs all
BB
7 Comments
debby
Sounds like good times at GG, BB! Well done! Now, there’s no way around it. Let the laundry begin! Sigh.
Me & Boo
Sounds like a fabulous time, and GG must be so awesome to those city cousins. Trapped indoors in the rain, well I guess that could inspire you to do some of the after visitor clean up! Or maybe NOT!!!
Jayne
That must have been a real blast!
Thanks goodness your BIL found P !
Photos are great 😉
Pencil Writer
Your BIL (the one who found SIL P) sounds like a relative of Pioneer Woman Ree’s pesky BIL, Tim.
Love family gatherings! The work before can be exhausting, as you mentioned, along with the work following, but SO worth it. AND it appears that your family somehow produces the cutest kids!
Great post!
rhubarbwhine
Don’t dags belong to sheep, not SILs errr I mean cows?
I want to go to BB’s B and B, it sounds like quite the theme park. 🙂
Bush Babe (of Granite Glen)
Shirley… dags definitely belong on sheeps’ backsides (but lets not get into the whole mulesing debate here!). However I believe I am in good company in the Honorary Dag Dept with people such as the late great Steve Irwin, the glorious Fred Dag (aka John Clark) and Kel (think Kath and Kim). Dags unite!
There is not, and will never be, a B&B here. I cannot keep things that tidy. I have visitors, not guests. And they have to help wash up!
I need to go sleep before the final bout of laundry!
BB
Fred Farnsworth
The aftermath of having visitors is always a weird stillness. And piles of laundry. And lots of smiles at mental images gathered during our rellies stay. Of kids sliding around on trotting ponies, tentatively holding out sheafs of hay to belching bovines, and the startled expression on my weaner bulls faces at the technicolour get-ups brought by Dash’s cousins for yard attire. Our city visitors certainly assisted in my weaner-quietening endeavours. Purple paisley holds no terrors for them anymore, that’s for certain!