Let me make this clear from the onset. I come from a bi-heritage, but mono suits me just fine as well.
So columnist Penny Flanagan has done a spot of house/dog sitting too. Only she, it seems, has had some startling reality checks on how some others manage, or mismanage, their households – those she has been invited access to to keep hound and home safe. And she saw fit to broadcast their shortcomings to all and sundry around the country. I did quietly wonder if she’d be welcomed back ‘…from Manly to Mossman to Coogee…’
I do the same within my orb. I love it. As much as I adore life with my beautiful lady on the fringes of Hobs, a dog/house mind gives me a change of scene and a few advantages I do not have at our little idyllic abode abutting the Derwent.
I have four regular gigs. As a plus two are situated in real ‘SeaChange’ (Will the new version be a semblance of its seminal predecessor?) locations, Bridport and Sisters Beach. It’d be a toss-up between the duo as to which I would prefer to spend the rest of my days in if, heaven forbid, I had to leave my present situation. In both there is a sense of serenity; a notion of escape. They are very special communities. Of course I also get to share time with some magnificent canines – Jasper, Sandy the Spoodle, Summer, Bronson, Memphis and Pat the Dog. It’s a pleasure, always, having their company as I do my best to follow owner’s instructions and not spoil them rotten. All four residences are close to beach or river so I can stroll to my heart’s content. I value the fact that, at all, I can walk to attain my daily needs, including the Age. At home, on the fringes of a capital city, I have to hop in the car for those requirements.
I have the joy in each of a large screen television. There is nothing I relish more than sharing a movie or tele series with my Leigh, but our tastes do not always run parallel. Away, at these places, I can view the footy and cricket. I am able to binge on Netflix and/or Stan. With two I have the sheer bliss of wood-fired heating and all larders are well stocked, with the permission to graze. I can cook meals I usually would not have at home. I don’t, Ms Flanagan, have any problems with bath mats and each has a micro-wave. I’ve existed for decades without a dishwasher so that’s never an issue. In short, all four venues are welcoming, ultra-comfortable places to spend a week or two. There are no strange household ‘anomalies’ whatsoever. But now the rub
For the history of all this refer to Amelia Lester’s column, but the lovely homes to which I am gifted visits are not at all consistent in approach in one area – and for me this is no biggie whatsoever. I must admit I was bought up bi and my lovely Leigh is of the same inclination. I did suffer some discombobulation when, well before I embarked on house-sitting, I had my first encounter with the mono version. I recall being in a quandary. Did I let my lovely host know that he/she had forgotten something? Did I sneak off in the night to sort it out for myself and find the other half of the equation? Or did I simply go with the flow? I went with the latter and coped with the initial strangeness of it all. I soon discovered that, in the wider world, there are as many, perhaps even more, devotees of mono-ism as there are to being bi-orientated.
Now, of course, I take it all in my stride. If I’m welcomed into a mono-sheeted household I am perfectly at home as, according to Ms Lester’s statistics, they are close to, if not in the majority. I’ve adapted, just as I have to fitted bottom sheets – just as long as I’m not expected to fold the plurry things. Mono or bi, I’m content both ways.