Often during the family boat trips I am forced to stay low, where I can fool myself into thinking we are not moving. Madeira does give me such grief for it, however. She can be a little beast when Mother and Father are not looking. Just to set all the records straight, I am perfectly fine when the boat is not moving. It is not the location that causes my queasiness, which I truly wish is something my school chums could understand.
My seventh birthday was the time of my discovery, and it was rather embarrassing. I had asked for a boat- specifically a plate aluminium boat, because even then, I was fascinated by industry- and I received one upon which I would celebrate my ascension to manhood. The school chums were invited, though I made sure I was the first one deck for the big party. I felt like I was the king of my own domain, with my own boat at last (my plate alloy boat) and truly grown up. I ordered a sailing trip around the bay while my party was in progress, so I could show off my kingdom as was my due.
This, I am sorry to say, is where the seasickness set in. Madeira had snuck on board, because she is a terror who never obeyed me even when we were younger. The girl is a menace with no respect for the authority of her older sibling. In any case, she made sure to point out to all my chums that I seemed under the weather, despite my attempts to hide it. I ordered a return to shore, but the damage had been done. Clinging to the fishing rod holder, I barely kept my footing and my image (along with the party) was ruined.
My plate alloy boat, the specs of which once caused in me great excitement, now lies abandoned. Perhaps I should donate it to charity, so that those less fortunate than I can take boat trips. I hear people generally enjoy them.
-Archibald Clancey II
You know, I think I was six years old before I even saw an insect. Mother said that a proper lady didn’t spend much time outdoors, at least much more than was socially required (garden parties and such), and thus I tried to follow that mandate to the letter, spending a lot of time in the parlour learning how to crochet and laugh at the jokes of the menfolk.
Then Imogen came to school one day, her butler porting in an ant farm, and I listened in utter fascination as she described how she was allowed to keep the ants in the upper levels of her quarters at the family mansion and she fed them pellets every day (that is, Antony the butler fed them every day and Imogen was allowed to watch).
Such an ecosystem! After that, I’m afraid I became rather hooked on the unladylike aspiration of finding out more about insects. Surrounding suburbs such as Frankston have pest control, where people actually try to get insects and such things out of their homes. Now, I understand people have phobias and such, but if I was at a loss to see how you could control them. In my mind, pest control was much like brain control; getting to the level of the ants and telling them (nay, asking them, more likely) to leave so that business may resume.
Obviously I was wrong there. The grounds of Whitehall Chapel are extensive, and I used to spend our Sunday family walks trying to find evidence of insect life. Apparently our gardeners are given strict orders by Daddy to remove them from our sight, because I saw very few of them. Now that I am eight, my interest has waned somewhat, mostly because I have been allowed to read about them in my computer lessons and I have found that termites can be rather odious. There are designated Frankston termite control companies to deal with the damage they cause. But still…I should like to be allowed to form my own opinion.
Before I met my wife I had very little time for universal forces. As a doctor my belief system is rooted in evidence, proof, statistical testing etc. I do not take things on faith alone, I need more. This model of fact finding does not allow for thoughts to do with energies and cosmic forces. However, the events that lead to me meeting the amazing woman that would become my wife, changed everything.
Every once in awhile a patient of mine asks for a treatment that I am either unfamiliar with or unable to prescribe. Normally it’s just a one off and I can refer them to a colleague but over the course of three months, seven years ago, I had thirteen patients inquire about dry needling as a treatment for muscular pain. I decided to do something about. I found a great facility offering dry needling courses in Sydney and booked myself onto the first available one.
On the flight on the way there I sat next to an extremely beautiful woman. We didn’t exchange words but the occasional glance may have occurred. That night at the hotel restaurant I saw the same woman dining alone, we gave a knowing smile and carried on dining independently. The introduction to dry needling courses was taking place early the next morning so I headed up to bed without haste. As I arrive at the dry needling centre I see all the nametags for various doctors taking part, my hand reaches down to grab mine at the same time as the one adjacent is being picked up. I’m sure you can guess who it was, Dr. Angela Victoria, my future wife, colleague and friend. I never would have imagined that taking a course in dry needling techniques would have such an impact on my life. We’re coming up to our one year anniversary and I can’t imagine my life without her.
Every now and then I like to sneak into Father’s study while he’s out. I know it’s so terribly naughty and a very bad habit, but his study is just so interesting. All those grand staircases and big, heavy books covered in dust that make me feel like I’m discovering a book of ancient magic. I can usually just close my eyes and use my imagination to not notice that they’re usually books on finance. Oh, but what if finance was a sort of magic? That’s simply terrific.
Sometimes I read the notes lying around on his desk, which again is rather naughty, but Daddy is always saying to Mummy that I should be taking an interest in business. Mummy wants me to be a lady of class, but I think it’s rather exciting, the world of finance and transactions and stocks. I barely even know what those things are, and they give me a shiver of excitement! I know exactly what I want to do, as well. I shall start my own cosmetic tattooing place in Ballarat. May-Belle at school had it done over the holidays and she looks very splendid, but Mummy said I am not allowed until I am fifteen. That’s centuries away, so I’ve decided that I’m going to own my own chain of eyebrow and cosmetic tattooing places when I’m older. It shall be called…Madeira Magic, because the beauty of the people walking out of the salons will be almost magical, and they shall hold everyone spellbound. Oh, we’ll offer more than just eyebrow services. Dermal fillers, hair removal, that thing that people do with getting rid of moles…no job will be too small. That’s what I’ve learned from the talk around the dinner table: diversity in business is key!
Maybe one day it will turn into an empire’s, just like that of my father. Madeira Magic, the premier service for eyebrow work and general beauty. Because that, also, is the key to great business: specialisation. I will rule the world of Melbourne’s eyebrow tattooing, and probably other things. I haven’t decided yet…
I do so dislike the mansion needing work. It’s Whitehall Chamber! Our beloved home needs no improvement! Sadly, sometimes it does, and quite urgently as well. I was spending some time in lounge number five, which has slightly more space than loung number six but the chairs are closer to the heater than in loung number nine (making it my favourite) when I was greatly disturbed by smashing windows and and great thump in tandem.
I immediately leapt from my chair in a great fright, forgetting entirely the episode of Week of Our Lives that had demanded my attention only seconds prior, and saw that the old oak had finally come down in the wind. Percy kept saying that we needed to do something about that old thing, but business kept him terribly busy.
So now there are aluminium work platforms blocking out the view of lounge number five, which is a great shame because if I want to be just the right temperature and closeness to the television in lounge number eleven, I have to call Sebastian to come and move the chair for me. Even then, I can still hear the men on their work platforms! Lounge sixteen is the furthest away, but I wasn’t allowed to pick the cushions and thus Percy chose a strange lime that I think clashes horribly with most of my wardrobe.
In any case, it’s a good thing the old oak didn’t come straight through the window. No, it was only a few stray branches, with some damage to the wall. That’s what they said, anyway. Our walls are very high, which I suppose is why they decided to drag along all those heavy-looking fibreglass ladders. Terribly scary stuff, clambering all over those things so terribly high. Reminds me of the latest episode of Week of Our Lives, where Reece was rock-climbing when his schizophrenia/split personalities came back…oh, I need to catch up!!
I just bought a brand new ute with the insurance money that I got from when my old ute got broken into and stolen. I know that material possessions shouldn’t mean anything to us, since we are in essence only material possessions ourselves. We live this life, then we are no more. For all of existence, except for the tiny speck of a speck of a grain of sand we call a lifetime. We are insignificant and at the same time, the most significant beings in existence.
We are made of stardust created billions of years ago. Compost, in the heap of the universe. I guess that’s why this life is so important to us. We know it is so fleeting, that we will protect it. That’s why I wanted to protect my tools, by using aluminium toolboxes. That way, if there was ever a problem, I could help them by keeping them safe.
This was not the case on the night before last. I had gone to bed early that night since I had a big day the next day, but I also thought, in my own funny feeling kind of way, that we were in trouble.
My senses must have been on the ball because that night we got broken into. They took the ute, and I lost all of my tools, which were safely locked away in the toolbox. I’m going to miss those aluminium toolboxes, Melbourne tradies should all have them installed. On this new ute, which I’m about to kit out, I will have a brand new aluminium ute toolbox installed on it, so that I can keep trying to protect that which I hold dear to me. I’ll never get back what was stolen from me. I’ll never be able to the same as I was before. For better or for worse, I’ve changed now, and there is no going back. I will be a different ute owner, and a different person from here on in. I want my aluminium accessories to remember that.
Oh dear! My fairy kingdom!
Father says the copse of trees down near the lake is being removed to make way for a silly old golf course, and I think it’s so terribly rotten. When I have school chums over, or just when I’m by myself and in the mood, I’d often travel down there and pretend I’m in a magical fairy kingdom deep in the woods. Of course, sometimes it does not feel like pretending at all, because it really is rather magical down there with a spring and a clearing of tree stumps and a tree that grants wishes, really.
I am thinking of protesting. It is what the common people do when they do not have enough money to simply make a problem go away. Once Daddy’s Melbourne tree lopping people arrive, I shall have built myself a treehouse covered in slogans that support the environment and declare the fairies and woodland folk should be free from industry. And I shall refuse to come down until the tree removal people go and remove trees elsewhere! Or rather, I shall only come down for the essentials, such as meals, going to bed, attending school (with extracurricular activities) and other social events that require my attention. Otherwise, I shall be in my treehouse, facing down the tree lopping folks and giving them my best eagle eye that I was taught by Frau Sauer, my extremely terrifying and commanding European Languages teacher. We always dedicated several minutes at the end of each tutoring session for such things; it was from Frau Sauer that I learned that all men are scum and women should be in charge of the world, which I found rather fascinating even if I feel it warrants further investigation.
Perhaps another time. For now, I must take on the Melbourne tree removal industry and win. Perhaps they will be too busy and will not be able to come? I shall live in hope…since I do not think I even know how to make a treehouse. It gets awfully windy up there.
I am most certainly not one to ‘splash out’, despite what you may think. I don’t run a successful business empire because I was willing to spend money willy-nilly; no, I’ve built the Clancey family fortune by working hard, saving pennies and being amazingly brilliant at my job, if I do say so myself. Which I do. I say it magnificently, because I have a full knowledge of my own talents. Any man who does not cannot be expected to succeed.
There has only come a single time when I considered a major indulgence. The yachts, the rolls, the stain glass windows and extension to living room eighteen…all, I considered necessary investments. However, after becoming interested in the industry, I had an inclination towards rendering. Melbourne rendering is a popular service amongst those wishing to give their home a chic edge. Now, Whitehall is a marvellous piece of structural beauty, but even I have to admit that some of the design is archaic. Concrete rendering might give it a do-over that I consider to be highly necessary. The only thing holding me back was the size of the structure, and thus the cost. The mansion is many times larger than a regular home, or even a regular mansion, and this rendering the entire thing would be like asking the same of a skyscraper. I had considered only having the visible parts done, but that will simply not do. Sometimes my clients and I go on hunting trips on the grounds, and when riding back they shall clearly see that the rear of the mansion remains un-rendered. It would be an abomination indeed. Thus, I must make the decision. It is, as they say, all or nothing.
It does look rather majestic. My business associate over in Sorrento had his beach home rendered for the viewing pleasure of all coastal visitors. This was what made me interested in Melbourne’s concrete rendering industry. Perhaps I can get a quote…
-Percival Clancey III
I just get so bored hanging round the house, sometimes. I say sometimes because there are other times when I’m completely engrossed in Week of Our Lives. It’s very engrossing! And then there are the times when I’m just head over heels for Next Door People, and if not that it becomes House and Not There. But in those moments in between I just tend to wander around, maybe feed the horses, have a choir brought in from the city to sing to me, go out on the jet-ski, lounge around on the beach, have a ski slope set up on the grounds and slide down a few times, go for a helicopter ride, host a diner party, host a tea party or just hop in the buggy and visit the family burial ground down by the lake.
It’s rather empty. I had Margaretta over yesterday, and SHE said she’s filling in her time with a bit of property staging. Her husband Fitzroy is a bit of a property mogul, like my Percy, and she helps him out by going to people’s houses and telling them what they need to do to sell the place at its maximum value. Things like replacing the curtains in the drawing room and installing a new security system on the gates that includes retinal scans instead of just boring old fingerprint. Sounds terribly exciting! I’m well into my soaps, but Margaretta has always gravitated towards the renovation shows. You know, Banned Design (where people try to add illegal things to their houses, like laser tripwires), Ann Tique’s Road Show (about that nice lady Ann who busks on her local high street every day for a living) and Vocation, Vacation, Vocation, the show about people going on holidays that are far too expensive for their budget and job and how they struggle to make ends meet after they get back.
Not really my thing, but Margaretta has gotten all her property styling knowledge from watching them nonstop. I know for a fact that Percy works with property stylists, because he has meetings and…well, it’s to do with property. He has fingers in ALL those pies. So, is Melbourne’s home styling industry ready for one more? I’m sure Percy could make it happen. Anything but staying bored!