This is a work of fiction, loosely based on the very real person, Russell Crowe. No insult or invasion of his privacy is intended, but rather, it is a
way of expressing the author's delight in his work and his manliness.
I guess you could say, this is the film I wish he would make.

This story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.

©2001 by WILDBEARIES

FUTURE PERFECT - Section 14

The trip home to Australia was a lot different than the trip to Los Angeles. For one thing, the plane was almost empty and we had virtually the entire first class cabin to ourselves. For another, Russell was still not feeling well - the antibiotics for the ulcer had really knocked him for a loop, and he was tired, cranky and sleepy - not a combination that makes for a pleasant traveling companion. Kate, bless her heart, was her usual cheerful self.

The flight attendants all wanted to hold her, and I let them until she grew sleepy-eyed and a little fussy, then she zonked right out in her carrier/cradle, no doubt hypnotized by the engine noise. I had her in a fluffy white sweater and aqua leggings with "Daddy's Girl" embroidered on them inside little hearts. She was that - Daddy's Girl, I mean, although she seemed to be almost equally Mommy's Girl too. She just lit up when Russell held her, though. Perhaps if we had a little boy later, he would be more mine. I wasn't jealous - I was too pleased with what a good baby she was to let that kind of petty stuff bother me. I leaned down and straightened the little aqua ribbon in her topknot, brushing her plump round cheek. "Sleep, little one," I whispered.

"I like my cheeks touched too, y'know," said His Crankiness from beside me.

I glanced over at him. "I know you do, but I thought you were sleeping."

He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "I was, but my gut woke me up."

I patted his leg, "I'm sorry. Maybe once we're home you'll feel better. Dr. Forrester said - "

"I don't give a flyin' fuck what she said, I feel bloody awful!" he snapped. He didn't look me in the eye, probably because he knew I wanted to pop him one. Instead, I leaned across the seat and brushed my fingers over his cheeks much as I had Kate's. "Mmm," he commented, a little smile breaking through in spite of his grouchy mood.

"I love you, you know," I murmured, stroking his hair, which was tousled and curling every which way.

"God knows why," he joked, kissing my hand before letting me have it back. "I'll try to be good," he promised like a penitent little boy.

"You'd better," I said in mock threat. I fluffed the little airlines pillow for him, and fixed the blanket just right, then held hands with him until he dozed off. One of the flight attendants walked up just then and bent down to whisper, asking if we needed anything. I shook my head no. She glanced at Russell and murmured, "No, I guess you wouldn't," with a wink. I winked back and said she should come back by later when he was awake, I'd be sure he gave her an autograph if she wanted one.

"Thanks," she said with a wide smile, "that'd be great!" She scooted off on her rounds, a thoroughly nice lady. She breezed past a bit later and handed me a sealed plastic packet that held an assortment of baby toys that the airline made up people who flew with infants. I set it aside for later. Kate would love the stuffed airplane in bright red and blue - she seemed to gravitate to bright colors like that. I reclined my seat and settled back, but I wasn't sleepy, so I sat up again and opened a new paperback novel.

My own novel, finished long since, was being edited and would be out in the spring. I was very excited about it, even though it was going to be in paperback and not hard cover. Still, breaking into the romance fiction field wasn't easy, and a paperback debut never hurt anybody. I would even do some book signings when the book debuted, one in New York and one in Sydney for the Aussie edition. Russell and I had talked about taking our vacation trip that we wanted built around my book signing in New York so we could go to the theater, shop and also do the tourist thing at some other places on the east coast of the USA. I also wanted to do the tourist thing in Australia, there was so much country to see, and so beautiful. He had promised we'd do that, also.

I thought back to the previous Christmas season - smiling at the memory of Russell's cricket match injury, the lovely gifts we'd exchanged, and the family camaraderie surrounding the whole season. Because we'd had to be gone for much of the pre-Christmas days this year, his usual holiday open house would be over New Year's instead of both holidays, but we had a lot of people who were coming, and it should prove to be a really nice time. When we landed in Sydney, I remembered, it would be almost Christmas Day. We were going to transfer to the private jet and fly right on up to Coff's Harbour, not wanting to miss any of the special holiday. I just hoped Russell felt better so his Christmas wasn't spoiled.

We had some clear air turbulence after leaving Honolulu, which, of course, brought back memories of the plane crash and how I'd felt when he came trudging wearily up the ramp from the JAL plane. In a relatively short time together, we had certainly had some adventures. The flight smoothed out though, and the landing in Sydney was smooth.

Russell, apparently somewhat refreshed from his long nap, signed autographs for anyone who asked him, even signing one flight attendant's hand who said it was something she'd always wanted. "Just so long as you wash that hand eventually, luv," he teased her.

"After the holidays," she teased back. She also got him to sign a magazine cover, no doubt wanting a more tangible memento as well.

When the plane was almost empty, we disembarked, met Mick who had flown ahead the day before, and bundled ourselves and all our baggage onto the beautiful little corporate jet. It was an easy up and down flight to Coff's Harbour in comparison to the long flight to Sydney from LA. Kate was fussy, but she quieted when Russell held her on his shoulder and talked to her. Mick drove us in the cream Rover, telling us that he'd spoken to Mum and Dad Crowe that morning and they had everything decorated for Christmas including our little house. "I think your mum said they decorated the cows too," Mick teased, knowing Russell's penchant for over-decorating.

"I hope she remembered the little music boxes for their horns," my droll spouse said dryly.

"The ones that play 'Jingle Bells'?" I asked.

"Yeah, and the twinkle lights for the bull's balls, can't forget that."

Mick snorted, and we all had a good laugh picturing the huge Hereford bull with twinklers on his rather formidable male appendages.

Everyone was in bed when we got home, understandably, it was about four in the morning. We just threw everything into the kitchen and dragged ourselves to bed. I made sure Mick was comfortable in the guest bedroom, then put Kate down in her own crib - she was out like a light anyway - turned on the baby monitor, and then crashed, lying in my own bed for the first time in almost three weeks. "Oh, God, this is great," I moaned.

Russell came in from the bathroom, wearing a tee shirt and some old flannel boxers, and got in bed beside me. "Oh, yeah," he grunted, "best bed in the world. I think I feel better already."

I snuggled up to him, "Happy Christmas, Mr. Crowe," I said, kissing his cheek.

He turned his face to me and kissed me on the mouth, "And to you, Mrs. Crowe. Tomorrow you get to see what Father Christmas brought you while we were gone."

I gave him a playful swat on the hip, "You devil! What have you done?"

"I'll never tell," he said piously, and he didn't, not even when I volunteered to sit on his face, and not even when I actually did. "I said I won't tell," he informed me when he had his breath back after I'd blown him, "And I won't, torture me as you will."

"Nah," I said, resuming my place beside him, "you'd like it too damned much. Besides, Santa brought you some things too, so suffer, buster."

"Lynnie," he said in a wheedling tone.

"Nope, suffer," I said firmly, and stopped the wheedling by turning onto my side, facing away from him and going to sleep. Even him spooning his body against mine didn't work. He would just have to wait.

Lynnie knows how much I love Christmas. She was enjoyin' tormentin' me about the stuff she'd gotten me, the little fiend. I'm sure she'll teach Kitty all that stuff so when she grows up, she'll torment some other poor bastard the same way Lynn does me. I just hoped he would realize how lucky he was.

I slept a couple of hours, but I was just too slept out from the flight and from excitement to sleep longer, so I stole out of bed, checked on Kitty - snoring little baby snores - and grabbed a fast shower. I pulled on my jeans and a footy shirt, then went into the living room to check on the tree Mum and Dad had decorated. They had found all the ornaments where I'd told them they were, and the tree was really beautiful. It almost touched the ceiling at its highest point where it peaked above the fireplace, and they had put all Lynn's and my ornaments and lights on it, plus some more. Kitty would love it, although I knew she'd be more into it next year when she would no doubt be toddling around getting into everything.

Lynn's antique nativity was set up on the mantel, and my collection of silver engraved bells was out, also stockings hung above the hearth, even a little one for Kitty. I went into my desk where I'd locked away the special things for Lynn and Kitty, and put something in each of their stockings. Then I made a fast call over to the main house to Terry to make sure Lynn's other present was there and ready. He assured me it was and we rang off, sayin' we'd see each other in a couple of hours. I had some packages ready which I put under the tree, then I went into the kitchen and started making breakfast.

I turned on the CD player with some Christmas music - Mannheim Steamroller, George Winston and the like - and pretty soon there was Lynn dressed in a Christmas tee shirt and leggings, with Kitty in her arms dressed in red with a little bitty Santa hat on her head. I made pancakes and cooked bacon and sausages while Lynn took Kitty into the sitting room to show her the tree. I could hear her squealing, so I turned the burners off and went to see my daughter's reaction first hand. I held her way up so she could see everything, and even though Lynn swears babies don't see far away that well, I really think she could see quite a bit. At least colors and lights.

We ate a huge breakfast, Kitty even got a very small taste of pancake with syrup, which she gummed and made a face, then I sat down on the couch with her and her bottle. She still nurses like a little piglet, burps like a trooper, and falls right to sleep. I hope our next one is as cooperative as she is, but I'm not gonna hold my breath. I put her in her crib and Lynn sorted out the packages. I noticed when I got back to the couch that there were a lot more than when I'd left. Some were for Mick, who came stumbling out like the Ghost of Christmas Past right about then, demanding coffee, which he finally got for himself since I had a lap full of packages. We had presents for him too, so when he'd had one mug of my coffee that would take the paint off the barn if you sprayed it on, he was awake and very appreciative.

Lynn had managed to shop by catalog, she said. She had books and CD's for me - some really neat ones and I was real happy with them. She had CD's for Mick, and a season pass to the theater in Sydney that he liked, which he seemed pleased about. She also had gotten me really cool shirts from some sportswear catalogs - they were this extra soft flannel they called "chamois cloth", and really nice colors like blue, green and red. She knows the way to my heart is a new flannie!

I gave her jewelry. I know I've given her a lot of jewelry since I've known her, but I like to pick out really special pieces, or even have something made especially for her, and since rose gold looks so good with her hair, this year I had gotten a locket made for her in rose gold filigree set with tiny rhodolites and diamonds, and on the inside were a picture of me on one side and Kitty's newborn picture on the other. Then I'd had the jeweler make a matching chain with rhodolites and diamonds set into the first six links on either side of the locket, plus the matching earrings, tiny lockets, but they didn't open. I'd tried to talk him into making them actually open, but gave in when he said they'd be too tiny and the gold too soft so they'd be very fragile. I also had a new ring for her to wear on her right hand - a beautiful pear shaped tanzanite set in rose and yellow gold. It was a huge one, what they called "museum gem quality" and I know it set me back a large piece of change, but mate, it was bloody gorgeous. I knew she would probably cry over it - sheilas do that stuff over jewelry y'know.

So, after I opened my gifts, I watched her and Mick open their stuff - I had gotten him a really cool dive watch that I knew he'd wanted. Lynn, naturally, loved her presents, and she did get watery over the ring, just as I predicted, and she also loved the racy lingerie I'd gotten her, although I could see she was embarrassed that Mick was sittin' there when she ripped one box open and pulled out this black skimpy lacy thing that wasn't much more than a scarf made of spiderweb. He blushed more than she did, though.

She also had some joke stuff for me - anti-grouch pills that were bubble gum balls, a bright red fur jock strap so the family jewels could be in the Christmas spirit too, socks with toes, each toe a different color, which on my big feet were a sight to behold! Instead of a big present this year, she told me she'd decided to economize. Then she laughed when she saw my face fall. "Okay," she complained, "I'll go get it. Jeeze, you're like a six year old sometimes."

"This oughta be good," I told Mick.

I went into the spare bedroom, and dug Russell's special gifts out from under the bed. He'd not tumbled to that as my secret hidey-hole, much to my relief, and when I dragged the boxes into the sitting room, he got this hilariously outraged look on his face. "Where did you hide those?" he wanted to know.

I wouldn't tell him. "No matter, just start opening, bub."

"At least I have two hands to do it with this year," he commented, and tore into the biggest one first. "Damn!" he said, and took out the most gorgeous leather trench coat. It was that burgundy-brown glove leather, made just for him by Signore Armani, and had his initials embroidered into the lining and embossed on the pocket flaps.

"Omigod," he said, then he tried it on.

"Omigod," I echoed. I cleared my throat, just catching myself before I said something aloud that was really private and involved jumping his bones when he was just wearing that coat and nothing else. "It's, um, nice."

He took it off and laid it in the big Armani box, then he unwrapped a box with new Blunnies, another one with two cashmere pullovers that were so thin and soft they felt like silk, one gray, one camel colored, and another box that had gloves, wallet and boots that matched the coat. "Lynn, this is just great," he said, sitting amongst the ripped paper and open boxes. "Thank you, luv."

"Oh, you're quite welcome. That last box was from Kate, did you see?"

"Yes, I saw the tag," he said. I'd printed her name in crayon, and added, "To Daddy to wear to all the awards ceremonies, love Kitty". Botany Bay was getting great reviews, and was being talked of for all the major awards, so I had no doubts he would soon be wearing his finery at ceremonies in parts of the world where it was cold during winter.

We gathered all our stuff together, threw out the shredded paper and ripped tissue, then dressed in our Christmas best to go over to the main house for our big feast and more presents.

Terry was there, along with Russell's cousins Martin and Jeff, Terry's daughter Chelsea, whom I hadn't seen since our wedding, and some of Russell's mates from TOFOG, plus assorted wives. I think there were 24 around the dinner table, and assorted babies sleeping in dresser drawers and improvised cribs. We had turkey and roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, baked ham and every kind of vegetable you could think of, then, when the men had spent their usual hour or so in a post-feast stupor, we had pumpkin pie and chocolate pecan pie with coffee. It was the most wonderful meal, and worth the clean up afterward.

Of course, there was a group of guys watching some sports thing in the den, so the Crowe womenfolk regrouped in the kitchen and got all the dishes washed, the leftovers put away, and the kitchen cleaned up. When we were done, you'd have sworn nothing had been cooked that day, except for the delicious aromas of pumpkin pie and turkey that still lingered. I fed Kate and went into the den to see what Russell was up to.

They were just finishing yelling at the screen and jeering the referees of a footy game - I should have known. But since they were done, he actually got up and took me by the hand, and said, "Let's go for a walk outside."

I thought that was odd, but since he was obviously feeling better, I went along with it. I did see Terry and their dad exchanging some of those meaningful looks when they thought I wasn't looking, so I knew something was up.

Russell took me out through the kitchen and walked down to the main paddock. We stood for a little bit, just leaning on the fence, breathing in the air, looking up at the sky, which for once wasn't threatening rain. Then Russell lets loose with this little giggle, so I knew whatever the joke was, it was about to be sprung. I decided to be a good sport, though. He put his hands over my eyes and said, "Don't look till I tell you, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed.

I heard doors open and close, the chink of something metallic, then soft foot falls, and a snort. "I want to look!" I said loudly.

Russell took his hands away, "Look, then, and Happy Christmas, luv."

I looked and just stood there with my jaw dropped open while everyone around me laughed - they had all managed to drift up as I stood with my husband's hands over my eyes. "Oh, my gosh," I finally managed.

"Is that it?" Russell wanted to know, "Oh, my gosh is all?"

"No, you fool, that's just all I could get out," I told him, and climbed over the paddock rails to take hold of the lead line of the most incredible Arabian horse - a mare - that I'd ever seen in my life. "Oh, my gosh," I said yet again, to everyone's amusement. She was magnificent - a dark bay with white stockings front and back, a small star on her forehead, and the lovely dished head and large eyes of the Arabian breed. "How did you know?" I asked him, standing with my arms around her beautiful curved neck.

"Oh, probably because every time you're near a magazine stand you're mooning over the Arabian horse magazines. I took a lucky guess, hope you like her. She's Egyptian - which they tell me are the purest bloodlines - and she's got this really long name, but I think they just call her 'Posie'. Isn't that a flower?"

I nodded, whispering, "Posie, Posie!" She turned that gorgeous head and looked me straight in the eye, flicking her ears. "Oh, my gosh," I said again.

"Shit, mate, put her on the horse before she oh my goshes us again," Terry said in mock complaint.

Russell gave me a leg up into the saddle - a brand new Aussie saddle, which I had wanted - and adjusted the stirrups for me. "Go easy now, she's a hot blood y'know."

"I know," I nodded, and took off on my lovely Posie at a sedate walk. "Oh, my gosh," I said once again, then got her into a nice trot, then a beautiful rocking chair canter around the paddock. Her gaits were perfection and I can't even begin to express the feeling of riding a piece of living art like my new Arabian - it was like something out of a fairy tale. I just grinned like an idiot and enjoyed it.

Well, thank God, Lynnie liked the horse. It had taken me six months to track down just the horse I wanted for her, and believe me, this one cost me dear, but mate, that horse is so fuckin' gorgeous, I think I got a real bargain, especially since Lynn went so cuckoo over her right off. Maybe I should have bought two - maybe I should look into a stallion for me. Hmmm, sometimes I can be downright brilliant, y'know?

New Year's Eve was just super, mate. We threw a big open house, set up a huge buffet with all kinds of food - I had it catered by some folks in Sydney to save Mum and Lynn and the other girls from workin' their asses off, and everybody who could get there came. A lot of people were out of the country, of course, but all the band came with assorted wives and girlfriends, assorted rellies, and a lot of people in the business came up from Sydney and Melbourne, plus a whole group of adventurous souls came over from the States, so we had a real diverse crowd.

We played our holiday cricket match then since I'd been gone Christmas Eve, and I had to promise not to moon anybody before they let me play. Since I didn't feel like doing much, truthfully, I just batted once and retired gracefully to sit on the bench. Martin and Jeff hooted at me, but they knew why, so I just flipped them off and grinned when they didn't bat that well. I guess too much beer will do that. Anyways, my team won this time, and since nobody got carted off to hospital, we counted it as a good game.

Lynn and I did get to spend a little time alone the afternoon of New Year's Eve. We rode our horses way out into the far paddocks and spread out a blanket where I was sure there weren't any poisonous or venomous anythings and had a picnic. She was just in love with her horse, and I have to admit, I liked riding her too. Posie is a sweet mount - I think I'm gonna have to get a horse like hers for myself. I always thought Romper would do me for years, but getting' my kidneys jarred loose ridin' him wasn't as appealing as it used to be. Besides, he was getting' on in years and deserved to be turned out to just graze and get fat.

It was a pretty hot day, but not unbearable. I was lyin' back on the blanket, kinda dozing, and Lynn was tucked up against me real nice. "We had a pretty good year," I said after awhile. "I mean, all things considered."

She snorted, but nodded her head. "Yes, if you leave out the kidnapping, Diane Dimante's letch for you and a few assorted medical emergencies."

"Well, havin' Kate makes up for a lot of the bad stuff, don't you think?" I love that baby. I would never have thought I would feel so fiercely protective of my child, but I did. I think I would lie down in front of a 747 to protect her and her mother if it came to that. I tried to express that to Lynn, but it's a little hard to explain something when your throat keeps closin' up and you keep gettin' all emotional. "So, I guess what I'm sayin', Lynn, is that I never thought I would love anybody the way I love you and Kitty."

She just lay with her head on my shoulder, playin' with my fingers since she was holdin' my hand at the time, and she finally sat up and gave me the sweetest smile. "I feel the same way about you," she said, "even though sometimes you make me so mad I want to kick your butt across Australia."

"Oh, violence from the woman," I said, laughing. "I get strong emotions about your butt, too, but kickin' it isn't what comes to mind." Then I yelped because she started in ticklin' me, and that led to some other stuff that was pretty much fun too. Nothing like lyin' on your back under the bright blue sky with a lascivious redhead ridin' you until you can't walk straight. Not that I'm complainin', mind, but all the drugs they had me on were making me feel a bit off.

"Poor old fella," Lynn says when I bitched about it.

"Well, it was bound to happen," I said, tryin' to be reasonable about it. "I guess when the wife makes a poor, puny bloke's blood concentrate below his belt, a bloke's gotta expect that he's gonna feel a bit light headed."

She didn't say anything. But when we got to the stables and were inside putting away the tack and rubbing down the horses, she caught me in the tack room, shoved me down on the hay bales and made me light headed all over again. "If you feel faint now," she informed me, "I'll prop you up."

I just lay on my back on the hay and laughed. What else could I do - I was too weak to fight her off even if I'd wanted to. Which I didn't.

I must say that was a really fun New Year's Eve. Not just having my way with Russell several times, but just being with family and friends, not having to worry about cameras catching every facial expression or nuance of behavior, just being ourselves. The next week we would be off to London for the premiere of Botany Bay, then to Paris for the French premiere, then back to London for the double thrill of Ira Trenary's trial (which had been put off twice while his attorneys tried to get him off on various technicalities) plus the British Academy Awards, at which Russell was presenting a special lifetime achievement award to Ridley Scott. On the way back, we would stop off in Los Angeles for Russell to see Dr. Forrester, then fly home, only to go back to the States - God willing - in February and March if Botany Bay got nominations from the various awards committees, which we had every reason to believe it would.

Sometime in the middle of all that, would come the Australian and New Zealand premieres of the film, plus Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore. I figured that by the end of March or early April we would be able to come home and hole up for awhile before Russell was off on his next film. At this point, he hadn't decided what project that was going to be, which was apparently a subject of some interest since every interview he'd granted since Botany Bay had wrapped had started with the question, "So what's next, Russell?" To which he'd just shrugged and said he wasn't sure. I think he really wasn't sure for a long time, frankly.

"Several things look good," he told me one night when I finally came out and asked him so I could plan my own travels for my book. "I might do the film for Merchant Ivory, or I might do the one Curtis Hanson has in the planning stages, or I might do the one about Richard the Lionheart - I just don't know yet."

"Richard the Lionheart?" I asked, my interest piqued, "I hadn't heard about that one."

He proceeded to tell me about the film. "I got a preliminary script right before we left for the States last time, I didn't have time to read it until this past week, but I really like it. It's a by a new writer - well, she's not new to writing, just hasn't had anything translated to the movies yet - but it's a great story - based on a lot of the true things about Coeur de Lion, and even though I'm already older than he lived to be, I think I could play him and be convincing."

When I begged, he let me read the script. He was right - it was right up his alley, and he would be magnificent as Richard, who was a really fascinating character - a famed warrior who had gone on crusade instead of staying home to govern his kingdom; a man who had been involved in a fabled romance with Berengaria of Austria, yet who, by all contemporary accounts, was also well known as a homosexual; a man fabled for being a beloved, popular ruler who had spent only a few actual months of his total reign in England, and who had died far from home, felled by a lucky shot by an archer, leaving his kingdom to his younger brother, John, the infamous Prince John of the Robin Hood stories. Then he floored me by saying he thought he really wanted to play John and not the Lionheart.

"He's a lot more interesting, Lynn," he said, "after all, he was such a bad tempered bloke, he used to get so angry, he'd fall on the floor, kick his feet and foam at the mouth."

I just looked at him. "I can't see you as the bad guy, even though I can see you doing the foaming at the mouth part." That earned me an arch look and an eyeroll. "Don't you think your fans would like to see you playing a real storybook hero? And you'd get to kiss the girl and the guy!" That earned me a chase around the sofa and a good kissing until I agreed it was his choice which he did, if he did either one.

"Good," he said, grinning, "because I already decided I'm going to do Lionheart."

I just groaned and realized he'd been having me on the whole time. To get even, I suggested Diane for the role of Berengaria.

I won't tell you what he said about that particular idea.

I had a lot of fun teasin' Lynn about the Richard the Lionheart thing. I had been blown away by the script, and when I found out that Ridley was going to direct it with pretty much the same team as Gladiator, I was just about sold on the project. They were giving me my choice of either Richard or John, though, I hadn't been teasin' Lynn about that part, I had just already decided to be the hero because Richard was such a complicated character whereas John was all one color - bright red from temper. Besides, I thought I'd look good in the costumes. I'm as vain as the next bloke in this business, y'know.

After we got back from the stables we had a big dinner with everyone who was stayin' at the farm plus a bunch more who just drove in for the day. We had a big wash tub full of beer on ice, but I had to limit myself because of the damned medicine for my stomach. Still, I had a good time just with one beer and the rest of the time drinking water or tea. I took a lot of ribbing from several people, mostly the ones who didn't know what was going on and thought I'd decided to quit drinking altogether. I told them I'd given up cigarettes, and I'd given up philandering, but I was damned if I was going to give up beer, I was just on hiatus, so to speak.

After the evening meal, the band and I played a bit, then some others sat in and jammed for awhile and there was dancing outdoors on the front lawn. It was a clear night, really nice, and not too many insects since we were burning a lot of citronella torches and the like, so that made it fun. At midnight Terry and I set off about a million fireworks that we'd been squirreling away all year - some I'd even brought in from China - they were really nice ones. The little kids that were there especially liked the real noisy ones, but I liked the ones with a lot of color and falling stars. Next New Year's, I told Lynn, Kitty would really enjoy the fireworks, but this year she was sound asleep in the main house and I doubt she even heard any of the noise, though we did make a bit. Luckily, the local constabulary were invited to the party, so we didn't have any cops to spoil our fun.

By two in the morning, I was ready to fold up. "Just call me a fuddy duddy," I told Terry, "but I'm goin' home to bed." I went and got Lynn and Kitty, and we drove over to our house and crashed. It was a really nice New Year's Eve and the next day it rained, so our timing was just right for our outdoor party.

All too soon our week of isolation was over and we were off to England and the UK premiere of Botany Bay. And I had to testify at Ira Trenary's trial, something I was not looking forward to doing. But, I would have Lynn with me, and I had a good attorney in case I needed one, and I would get through it.

If I'd known what a farce the whole thing was going to turn into, however, I might not have been so philosophical about it.

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