The Fireplace Tiles Get Laid in the Laundry

 When Ian arrives I'm still in my dressing gown. He's cheery, dedicated to getting things done. Tells me he never learned to read or write. Reminds me of a boy I used to teach, part of a rowdy but good natured Year 10 class, who used to sit quietly and do nothing. When I asked Luke he said his dad never learned to either so he knew he never would. He was infinitely patient and good natured, way more mature than the other boys who had no idea what not being able to decode letters would be like and didn't care anyway. I saw Luke in the surf a few years later and he gave me a huge wave, told me he was roofing. I assured him he would be earning more than me. Every time I've bumped into him since, he's given me a big hug. He's hard to miss, 6' 7'' with dark red hair and freckles and a huge grin. When Ian talks about doing other things, he's well aware of the limitations of illiteracy, but good natured and cheerful. And the ultimate perfectionist doing his work. Reliable.

The tiles look like they belong. Prior to demolition, they sat on the kitchen bench top brightening up the the old house, mysteriously appearing following visits to the Pump House. The Art Deco motifs, muted colour tones, and floral inspiration drew me to them. Visits for no particular reason other than I like old things...the patina of age, the cracks and chips of use, the energy absorbed from other spaces. Takes time.

Ian completes another consent job, the strips between the doors and the Tasmanian Blackwood. No stone left unturned. I get going on the boxes, the never ending job that just keeps on giving. When I packed up I handled everything in the house. Now I'm in reverse, and figuring out where to put things-  a general area for much of it. When I moved into the original house, I didn't do the unpacking. Judith and Karen did it for me. I was in hospital recovering from a caesarian. For a week. I couldn't have done it myself and, looking back I am so grateful for the dedication of close friends who interrupted their lives to rescue me. Fine tuning, then as now, will happen when I've got time.