Weekend away. Two hundred and eighty kilometres to Comboyne. A signpost outside of Comboyne suggests that it has a population of 600. Yesterday I think that we only saw a handful of those residents. Comboyne's serenity was undisturbed by crowds. Our accommodation, the Roundhouse. The Roundhouse overlooked a number of tree lined valleys and in the far distance the sea off Port Macquarie. On its verandah sat a spa filled with delightfully warm water
to sooth the aching bones. Specifically, those injured when I fell through a chair recently. Sore bones acquired during a momentary lapse of OH&S 'good judgement.' After a hearty country-style breakfast we set off to rediscover the township of Comboyne. On our travels we risked a dusty, gravel road to buy some punnets of blueberries. Great decision. Freshly picked berries. The farm gate sale was an added bonus. Local olives and cheese the subjects of subsequent purchases at the Comboyne Community store.
Plates organised and table set. We don't usually entertain during the week but last Monday was different. Anne and Gary were kind enough to join us for an impromptu dinner. Normally I would not cook but again last Monday night was different. On holidays for a few 
more days I decided to try my hand at a dinner menu for guests. To begin, bubbles from St Clements. A platter for sharing while we chatted and the potatoes baked. En
tree, somewhat understated with a portion of mini spring rolls accompanied by sweet chili dipping sauce. This was followed by shots of lemon sorbet. Next, potatoes i
n jackets that were chunked then topped with finely chopped ros
emary. A leaf salad including snow peas, cherry tomatoes and avocado ensured that all of the food groups were represented. Lightly crumbed herb encrusted, pork fillets were seared and thence baked. Dessert, a quick call to 'phone a friend' to ask, does it matter if I use light milk when the recipe calls for full cream milk? Apparently in this instance it was not too critical. How lucky was I? Dessert, creme caramel, berries and ice cream. Lastly, homemade chocola
tes to finish the evening. Glasses cleared, plates stacked and the dish washer quietly rinsing. I could get used to this.
T'was a few weeks before Christmas and all through the house no other was stirring as I sat at the computer. Rather sensibly, for at 4am most other people in my home are asleep. It had been raining fo
r a while and I could hear a dripping sound. I saw water droplets slowly dropping down from the ceiling and into the open print tray attached to the computer. As you might expect this was a moment in time where I presumed that I had been working too long and thus, was imagining that it was raining inside. No, I watched a little longer and there were indeed water drops dripping from the centre of a circular, damp patch overhead. My OH&S training alerted me to the fact that electrical appliances should never be wet; especially from leaking ceilings. I moved the printer and then pondered if it was too early to advise Stephen of the dilemma. I waited patiently for the sun to rise before telling him of the situation. I am not sure why I then felt the need to venture into other rooms in the house but I did. What I found was mould on carpets in two rooms, water stains on the gyprock walls and ceilings and in the hallway too. It is important to explain that it had been raining for a few days on and off. Paint had bubbled from the walls in giant wafer thin sheets. Further inspection revealed that the tiled roof had decided to absent itself from its weather protection functions. The elements had worn down its resistance and I learnt that tiles have a shelf life. Who knew? Many, many thousands of dollars was required to repair the damage and restore the tiles to their previous waterproof state. The contractor suggested that unless it was urgent then the job could wait until after Christmas. I explained that I had watched one of the lightglobes in the kitchen flash intermittently despite the fact that it was turned off at the switch on the wall. The contractor immediately recognised the urgency but was kind enough 
to inquire if we had smoke detectors? I then further recounted my trips to the ceiling cavity late one night to place drop trays where water had breached yet more tiles over another bedroom. That was one through the man hole romp that I don't regret making for water was literally pouring into the ceiling space directly into the wiring of light fitting below. I did however, note the need to purchase a torch for future ventures up the ladder and into the dark and dusty roof trusses. Scary up there. That night I fashioned a funnel from Aluminium foil to direct and channel and second leak from a truss that was tracking down the ducting for the air conditioning. The funnel, a clever idea suggested by one at the bottom of the ladder. It worked. My pink washing dish was finally located to stem the flow of water in a third location and then I returned to the world of light hopeful that none of my dam busters would overflow before the roof was repaired. We now have a beautifully restored roof so it was most distressing to find that two of the recently restored paint jobs were once again stained and walls glistening with water tracks. Roof was repaired so what was the issue now? I did not know that there is a tray in the roof space for the ducted air conditioning unit. It was overflowing as the tray had warped over the years and it was a secondary source of destruction. Coincidence that both events occurred simultaneously and the roof was not entirely to blame. Many weeks of painting and rooms are ready to be slept in once again. Carpets shampooed still bare the scars of the event. So perhaps I should enrol in Maintenaqnce 101; if the WEA runs such courses for people such as myself. I am all painted out.
With Picasso the library cow put to bed it was time for me to hit the road to a little gallery in Bull Street, Cook's Hill. What a coincidence. Artistic zeal from the workplace cows to the art space bulls. The show was entitled 'Firing The Imagination' and it featured the work of seven ceramicists. Driving up we noticed that the gathering was so large that they had spilled onto the pavement with their wine and nibbles. The official opening was made by Claire Williams-Faculty Director Creative Industries, Hunter TAFE. It was obvious that she understood the pieces exhibited and spoke admirably of each artist. My best friend Anne had entered a number of pieces but 
it is fair to say that Stephen saw her mugs and immediately declared, 'If you want to get me something for my Birthday please get me those mugs.' The set of four coffee mugs had a quirky nature a little in keeping with his. Money in hand I purchased a red spot to be proudly displayed alongside that set of mugs. Stephen was already discussing how dinner guests might respond when presented their coffee in such mugs. No I will not show the mugs for that would spoil the surprise for our next dinner guests.
