Approximately 8.20 pm Friday evening the 10th of October, 2014; heading north on Great Northern Highway, nine kilometres south of New Norcia. Moonrise shown in the West Australian newspaper as 8.28 pm for that  day.

Had Sandro Botticelli seen her, he would have wrapped his 1486 masterpiece ‘The Birth Of Venus’ around the head of what ever apprentice happened to be lurking near by, burnt his brushes  and palettes, and gone off to work on his father’s pig farm for the rest of his life. With the voice of an angel, and the words of a poet; trapped in a body that matched her age, Cath Wood was striking beyond words. Raven haired and beautiful, entirely comfortable in her own skin, Cath held no time for the falsity and arrogance of airs and graces, carrying all five feet and eight inches of pure femininity through life happily and uninhibited by social restraint. Highly intelligent, she smiled more with her eyes than her mouth through the darkness at the love of her life, Russell Philips, from the passenger seat of his work vehicle, a diesel Holden Cruz. Russell was not a bloke, he was a man, not so long ago he would have been described as a sporting gentleman. Articulate and verbose, with an intelligence to match Cath, Russ stood ramrod straight in a body honed by fitness, but fitness for fitnesses sake, not to look like a footy sock full of gum nuts on a beach. Slightly taller than Cath, Russell enjoying a flutter on the horses, and endeavouring to get along to watch whatever football or rugby was on offer as often as possible. Blue eyed, with a smattering of ash throughout his short hair, he was well read and travelled, and now held the senior position within the organisation for whom he worked. Both he and Cath had the ability of thought, and used the learnt gift to the full. He was loyal to those around him, and tolerated fools not at all.

“Yes Cath, I get it, ‘pregnant’ is what you call a three humped camel.” sighing and laughing in one, Russ cringed at Cath’s joke. Without warning, all power within the small vehicle, and then the motor, died, leaving them in darkness at 112 kilometres per hour and unable to see the the winding gum tree lined road ahead……… 

 

To be continued.

 

Click ‘The Birth Of Venus’ above, very groovy Sunday afternoon tunes to follow.

 

 

N.

 

 

 

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