Red Dirt Romance …

What does romance mean to you?  Have you ever thought about what it really means when you tell someone to “be romantic”?  I have been pondering the true meaning of romance for a while now and decided to share my findings with you …

I thought a good place to start would be the dictionary.  And so I consulted dictionary.com to see what it had to say on the hot topic of romance.  I was told that romance could be “a novel or other prose narrative depicting heroic or marvelous deeds, pageantry, romantic exploits, etc., usually in a historical or imaginary setting” or “a baseless, made-up story, usually full of exaggeration or fanciful invention“.  How interesting … I had never thought of romance as being “baseless”.

Another source described it as “ardent emotional attachment or involvement between people; love“.

Six months ago romance to me meant flowers, chilled champagne cocktails at my favourite restaurant, dancing, someone whispering sweet nothings in my ear, maybe a love note here and there, or a well chosen gift, dinner at a fancy restaurant, being told how beautiful I looked, or how much my eyes sparkled.

My how Newman has changed my perception of romance.  I have thought a lot about this in the past few months and it’s only now that I’ve changed my way of thinking.  You see, for the past few months I have really nagged Mr W. about not being romantic … especially seeing as we only celebrated 4 months yesterday!  The Pilbara is by no means conducive to a “romantic courtship” … there are no florists, no gift shops, no fancy restaurants … and no sandy white beaches with amazing sunsets … and there no “marvelous deeds” or “romantic exploits” … or so I thought.

You see, it’s funny how sometimes we reflect on things and see things through a different light.  I’ve decided that Mr W. is very romantic, it’s just a different style of romance … I think we’ll call it “red dirt romance”.

Who needs jewellery when you have a man who gives you his Surfer Joe’s to walk across a mangrove crawling with spider crabs, rather than have you walk barefoot?  Remember, you can see though diamonds, well white ones anyway.  Jury is still out on the pink Argyle ones …

And who needs a fancy dinner when you have a man who will not only make you a bacon and egg sandwich with a runny egg, but also give you advice such as, “honey, if you turn the other way, the wind will blow your hair back and you won’t get runny egg in it” … oh Mr W. … bless those so called unromantic bones of yours.

He will also take you to the most beautiful beach in the world to watch the most amazing sunset you’ve ever seen … but be warned … there will be no holding of hands or eye-gazing.  He will have a quick fish instead.  But you know what, he will still be there next to you … well down the beach a bit anyway.

He will teach you to drive a manual without yelling at you and a few months later when you drive him to work he’ll tell you how proud he is of how much your driving has improved.  He will tell you that your hair doesn’t look all that bad when some hairdresser in a town you visit makes you look like a five year old hacked at your fringe … and then a few weeks later when your fringe has grown back he’ll tell you that actually, it was terrible.  He knows that timing is everything.  He will always make you a coffee and put your toast on before you go to work.  He will let you write a blog about your life together … and just when you thought he couldn’t get any better, he’ll write a blog on his point of view …

These are definitely heroic and marvelous deeds in my eyes …

pp xx

ps … just a little note for Mr W. … just in case he reads this … even though I’ve come around to the whole “red dirt romance” idea … any forms of previously held notions of romance are still very welcome.  And even though you can see through diamonds, like I said, the jury is still out on the pink ones.  Oh, and pearls, you can’t see through them.  Thank you xx

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My Life on a Trailer …

What’s the longest journey you’ve ever done by car (none of this aeroplane comfort caper!!)?  Bunbury to Perth?  Perth to Shark Bay?  Pffftt.  My longest journey to date is the drive from Harvey to Newman … in total it took us about 17 hours (ok so if you have a journey longer, then yes yes you win lol).  The drive was loooooong … mainly due to the fact that we stopped so often (I’m a girl … I have needs!!) … and the fact that we had the entire contents of my life following us on a trailer, which restricts just how fast you can go on a gravel road.   It didn’t help that (due to circumstances outside of our control) we had only a single tank (yes folks, in these parts you need long range tanks that can get you about 900km) … just call me a seasoned long distance traveller!

Now that is some SERIOUS diesel!!

While the journey was long and somewhat boring (despite numerous attempts at playing eye spy) … it was also exciting and full of gorgeous scenery.  Apparently it was exciting because it was my first time.  I nearly wet my pants when I saw a family of bush chooks (emus to the rest of you), not to mention the wedgetail eagles, cows, goats, sheep and of course good old skippy.  I was fascinated to learn why a lot of the trees and bushes were all perfectly hedged around the bottom … billy goats if you were wondering.  And don’t get me started on the amazing Pilbara Sunsets!!  Oh and did I mention roadhouse toasted sandwiches?   Well I should …

Although perhaps the most exciting part of the journey for me was seeing the sign that said “The Outback Starts Here”.  While it may seem small, this was for me the beginning of my journey as the Pilbara Princess.  What laid ahead was an expanse of gravel road … and beyond that, my dusty new life … sans stilettos.

The Outback Starts Here!

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better … I passed the 26th Parallel (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/26th_parallel_south) … and then the  Tropic of Capricorn (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tropic_of_Capricorn)!  There’s not much there … just a roadhouse which is known to locals as the “Cappy” Roadhouse … this also doubles as a pub and the best place to get breakfast in around 200kms (but that is info for another blog post!).

And so after a mammoth 17 hours in a car, with an albeit gorgeous man (who, god bless his cotton socks, did all of the driving), I have never been happier to see a driveway and front door!  Home sweet home … dusty, dusty red dirt.  I can vouch for the fact that red dirt gets into EVERYTHING by the fact that any boxes that were on the back of the trailer were filled with fine, dusty red dirt … much to my delight!

And it’s here that the fun really begins … stay posted for my adventures with road trains … and my life as a Domestic Goddess … Nigella … eat your heart out!

pp xx