Matisse never looks me in the eye. I've never met a cat who won't enter into a staring contest, much less look directly at you. And if I was to meet such a cat, I would never expect it to be a Siamese.

Hadn't given it much thought before. Matisse is nearly 8 years old. His shyness has never been a problem. I mean, he isn't shy. He's the first cat to come out and greet visitors. Usually we're grouped around the kitchen island bench on stools and Matisse will jump on my lap to be involved. If we're in the living room he'll make hs way from person to person, not in any obvious way but if you watch him you'll see he'll amble from one person, stay there a while, stroked or unstroked, and then unobtrusively walk over to another. If he isn't doing that he's sitting in the center to soak up the energy. So why doesn't he look me in the eye? If I try to make eye contact he'll look 10 or 15 degrees to my left or right. If I also play that game and face him without looking directly at him, I never catch him having a good look at me. In every other way he is the most affectionate of cats. A typical Siamese. He loves to be loved. He loves to be touched and will often sit at my feet with his tail draped across my instep, just to have that contact. He purrs constantly and marks me with his whisker pads, rubbing head and face on any available body surface. Except my face. He never kisses. Unlike Natalia who kisses all the time and even nibbles my chin or nose.

The only time when Matisse looks directly at someone is at Richard. Every night is the same routine. Richard sits on the couch, Matisse jumps up beside him. He places a paw on Richard's arm and then stares up at his face, asking permission to be allowed onto Richard's lap. If he is refused he lies beside him and tucks his paws under Richard's leg. Most of the time he is allowed. Who could refuse those blue eyes? Especially when they stare straight into your soul.

Thoughts are things. I know that. I don't want to think the quarry into existence but judging by the reams of expert reports and the results of the mediation of the experts held this month, there is a great wall of pro-quarry thoughts to overcome. The noise will be overcome by some architecural alterations on the residences closest to the road in the way of double glaze windows and reverse cycle air conditioning. The destruction of this rare and precious environment will be offset by land purchased at Blenheim which has a tiny patch of dry vine scrub that will be enhanced by planting and protection from cattle, fire and weed. The quarry, all agree, will be economically marvelous. There is a huge need, according to the experts, for basalt quarried cheaply (no blasting necessary) and sold cheaply because the markets will be nearby. The consensus is that the quarry is a resource that the court would be mad to refuse.

I look at land and houses for sale constantly, bordering on compulsively. Try and think that if we lose and the quarry is approved then that means it is time for us to have a new life, a new adventure. Richard is worried about aging and his ability to keep up with these 10 acres. There are some ideal places for sale. Most of them are too expensive but I am hopeful that at the time we need the money, the money will be there.

We have to have some room, even if we don't have enough room for the horses and have to agist them. The aviaries and the needs of the dogs require that we have a good sized block. To contemplate a move to suburbia is chilling but we may have no choice. On the other hand, if we do move to suburbia, we will have access to things that we don't have here.

Gatton, specifically here in the wild outskirts, has been glorious, but Gatton itself is sometimes a little conservative. I'm not a city person but cities do offer the variety lacking in farming community Gatton. And a different outlook. So it could be a good thing. One thing I know, I do not want to witness the demise of that mountain. If we lose, we lose. We gave it the good fight so there are no regrets but it would kill something inside to have to watch the death of that wild and secret place.