Everywhere I look I see them.
Surely it can't be just a coincidence?
It's becoming increasingly clear to me that I have been wandering in the wilderness for too long and only now is Cheesus revealing to me the path my life must follow.
The signs were there if only I had eyes to see them.
First school trip?
Cheddar Gorge
Favourite aids related film of 1993?
Philadelphia.
The list is almost completely without beginning and wholly without merit.
The rind has fallen from my eyes and I'm set free from earthly shackles. Cheese sets too, can't think of anything shackly about them but that would be too weird for words.
Thank you Cheesus, from this day forth I will follow only thee.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
DDA count
DDA (Daily Dead Animals) = 1
Just a penguin today, was hoping to be able to add a roo or a small calf but it was all pretty much over before it began.
Better luck tomorrow.
Just a penguin today, was hoping to be able to add a roo or a small calf but it was all pretty much over before it began.
Better luck tomorrow.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Cheese-World Edges Closer
Shouldn't be long now cheese lovers!
Had a phone call this morning from the cheese factory to inform me that they've received my job application (and are sufficiently excited my my cheese-credentials to call me up on a Sunday morning.)
I need to report for a cheese related medical tomorrow morning so will spend the rest of the day swotting up on cheese-facts in case they try to spring a test on me during the medical.
Luckily I had Washed Rind and Brie for dinner last night so with cheddar cheese on toast for lunch I should have suffient cheese matter in my blood to get through although I'm not sure I agree with compulsory cheese testing outside of the sporting arena.
Had a phone call this morning from the cheese factory to inform me that they've received my job application (and are sufficiently excited my my cheese-credentials to call me up on a Sunday morning.)
I need to report for a cheese related medical tomorrow morning so will spend the rest of the day swotting up on cheese-facts in case they try to spring a test on me during the medical.
Luckily I had Washed Rind and Brie for dinner last night so with cheddar cheese on toast for lunch I should have suffient cheese matter in my blood to get through although I'm not sure I agree with compulsory cheese testing outside of the sporting arena.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
North rest easy
North won at a canter, too many good players apparently.
It was another beautiful day and we drove past the oval on the way to bottling to see the cars already parked up ready to be sat in later in the day.
No other news from the match other than to say that my brother-in-law-ish thought he may have broken his leg in a tackle. He's subseuntly had it checked out and it's just a sprained ankle.
He wasn't playing, just drunk.
It was another beautiful day and we drove past the oval on the way to bottling to see the cars already parked up ready to be sat in later in the day.
No other news from the match other than to say that my brother-in-law-ish thought he may have broken his leg in a tackle. He's subseuntly had it checked out and it's just a sprained ankle.
He wasn't playing, just drunk.
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Grand Final Weekend
Tomorrow is grand final day for the local football (Aussie Rules) league. Regrettably I'll have my nose pressed to the something-or-other at the water factory all day which will result in me missing the sporting event of the year.
The final has a familiar look to it being as how the same two teams have slogged it out for at least the past 6 years with North (boo!) winning them all since 1998.
This year doesn't really look like being any different (so I'm told) as North finished top of the ladder again to earn their passage to the Grand Final. It may sound like North are a bit of a Man Utd or a Real Madrid but the fact is that there are only three teams in the league which increases North's odd's of making it to the final each year considerably.
This is expecially true when you consider that the team which failed to make it to the grand final this year struggles to gather enough players for a match on a pretty regaular basis. I suppose having a population of 1,800 must make that a fairly likely scenario on a wet winters day.
The local school was due to set up some stalls as part of their enterprise project but they lacked the entrepreneurial drive to organise it so I gather it's been cancelled.
Thank goodness for the local hip-hop dance class which have come through with an offering of at least three dances which should enliven proceedings.
At that time however I'll be up to my elbows in water so I'll not be in a position to report live from the event but I will bring you the scores just as soon as they get into the sports desk.
Hold the front page just in case there's a shock result.
The final has a familiar look to it being as how the same two teams have slogged it out for at least the past 6 years with North (boo!) winning them all since 1998.
This year doesn't really look like being any different (so I'm told) as North finished top of the ladder again to earn their passage to the Grand Final. It may sound like North are a bit of a Man Utd or a Real Madrid but the fact is that there are only three teams in the league which increases North's odd's of making it to the final each year considerably.
This is expecially true when you consider that the team which failed to make it to the grand final this year struggles to gather enough players for a match on a pretty regaular basis. I suppose having a population of 1,800 must make that a fairly likely scenario on a wet winters day.
The local school was due to set up some stalls as part of their enterprise project but they lacked the entrepreneurial drive to organise it so I gather it's been cancelled.
Thank goodness for the local hip-hop dance class which have come through with an offering of at least three dances which should enliven proceedings.
At that time however I'll be up to my elbows in water so I'll not be in a position to report live from the event but I will bring you the scores just as soon as they get into the sports desk.
Hold the front page just in case there's a shock result.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Weed Group Meeting
Just to let you know that despite being personally uninspired with regard to detailing the contents of the local paper I feel a dutious urge to pass on at least one important date for your diary.
The local weed group is meeting on Thursday 26th August at 4.00pm. "Express your concerns, make suggestions, plan activities, identification and mapping opportunity".
I know it's short notice (at least I do now having checked today's date) but I thought it only fair to give you the opportunity.
And they say there's nothing for young people to do on the island. School finishes at 3.00 for crying out loud. Don't try to tell the kids don't have opinions about weeds because I hear them talking about it all the time. Fact.
One is coming around tonight and I'll ask her straight out.
Then you'll see.
The local weed group is meeting on Thursday 26th August at 4.00pm. "Express your concerns, make suggestions, plan activities, identification and mapping opportunity".
I know it's short notice (at least I do now having checked today's date) but I thought it only fair to give you the opportunity.
And they say there's nothing for young people to do on the island. School finishes at 3.00 for crying out loud. Don't try to tell the kids don't have opinions about weeds because I hear them talking about it all the time. Fact.
One is coming around tonight and I'll ask her straight out.
Then you'll see.
Everyone's so young
If I'm supposed to feel like part of a community by starting this blog then I'll need to find something more suitable for the elderly.
I've been looking at plenty of admirable blogs over the past couple of days but they're written by people who appear to be so young. I can barely understand what they're saying and will need to refer in future to the excellent Urban Dictionary for enlightenment.
I've even send some amusing links (this one and that one) to my friend who chastised me for rehashing old jokes, calling me a, "fucking idiot" and a, "loser".
But what happened to me, I've only been here for 6 months and already I feel like I've dropped off the edge of the cultural world.
Of course, despite jokes to the contrary there is still a rich and vibrant culture in Australia. I hardly need mention the upcoming Wild Goose Chase being produced by the local amatuer dramatic society and only this week I learnt that there's an annual nude race on the island as part of an annual festival.
Surely I can't have become a completely old twat in less than 6 months. Maybe I was already heading that way and was only deluding myself, maybe I've long been past it and was laughed at by those-in-the-know for my pathetic attempts to stay groovy and hip.
I'VE GOT SOME RAPRECORDS MP3'S FOR CHRISTSAKE!
I BOUGHT THE STREETS' FIRST ALBUM AND LIKED AT LEAST ONE TRACK!
I USED TO TAKE DRUGS!
DOES LONGEVITY COUNT FOR NOTHING NOWADAYS?
I've been looking at plenty of admirable blogs over the past couple of days but they're written by people who appear to be so young. I can barely understand what they're saying and will need to refer in future to the excellent Urban Dictionary for enlightenment.
I've even send some amusing links (this one and that one) to my friend who chastised me for rehashing old jokes, calling me a, "fucking idiot" and a, "loser".
But what happened to me, I've only been here for 6 months and already I feel like I've dropped off the edge of the cultural world.
Of course, despite jokes to the contrary there is still a rich and vibrant culture in Australia. I hardly need mention the upcoming Wild Goose Chase being produced by the local amatuer dramatic society and only this week I learnt that there's an annual nude race on the island as part of an annual festival.
Surely I can't have become a completely old twat in less than 6 months. Maybe I was already heading that way and was only deluding myself, maybe I've long been past it and was laughed at by those-in-the-know for my pathetic attempts to stay groovy and hip.
I'VE GOT SOME RAP
I BOUGHT THE STREETS' FIRST ALBUM AND LIKED AT LEAST ONE TRACK!
I USED TO TAKE DRUGS!
DOES LONGEVITY COUNT FOR NOTHING NOWADAYS?
Actually I'm feeling a bit depressed today anyway.
I've been through several possible reasons for this which include my Nan's poor health, a lack of alcohol, bad dreams last night, the realisation that I'm a complete and utter failure, Palace being beaten by Chelsea, coming last in the fantasy league, clouds, metal in the water, too much tea, too much youth in the world, dandruff and having to apply for a job in a bank to name but a few.
And I still haven't got around to detailing the highlights of the local paper.
I must be depressed.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Nice Neice
Hey guess what?
I can hardly adam and eve it myself but I'm currently sitting outside writing this...in the sun!
This place is without doubt beautiful but the seemingly incessant wind and rain mean that the beauty is rather less transparent than other spots which leap to mind when one thinks of beauty. The beaches of South East Asia, the Ngoro Ngoro basin and the rolling hills of the Peak District are rather more obvious choices in a top 10 list but given time and windproof clothing this is certainly an acquired taste which rewards the investment.
Add a dash of sun and turn the wind down a notch or two and you've got yourself beaches here which are every bit as inviting as any I've had the pleasure of visiting. Soft sand, clear water, some of the best waves for surfing in the world and an absolute lack of development result in a beach-time bonanza.
Last night I went to a small beach a short drive away to watch the sunset and to roll around on a sand dune, today I walked with my three year old niece(ish) to the nearest beach and tonight I may wander down there again, it's only about a ten minute walk away so why not.
Speaking of my niece we sat outside the bakers for a little chat today while she nibbled at a cheese and asparagus pie. We were talking about Mums and Dads and she asked me what my Dad's name is. I told her and that I hadn't seen him for a while, she asked me if he was a little bit angry, I said I supposed he was, she asked me if he was far away and I said he was and she said he must be a little bit sad which again, I supposed he was. I haven't seen my Dad for about 15 years and a little three year old seemed to have it all worked out.
I suppose that may be one of those things that's only interesting to a doting Uncle(ish) but it just seemed a bit odd.
Anyway, I was meaning to detail the edited highlights of the local paper which hit the streets yesterday. You may think that not much happens in a place with only 1800 residents but you'd be terribly, terribly mistaken in your estimation. I don't want to give too much away now so I'll get back to you later with all the news.
I can hardly adam and eve it myself but I'm currently sitting outside writing this...in the sun!
This place is without doubt beautiful but the seemingly incessant wind and rain mean that the beauty is rather less transparent than other spots which leap to mind when one thinks of beauty. The beaches of South East Asia, the Ngoro Ngoro basin and the rolling hills of the Peak District are rather more obvious choices in a top 10 list but given time and windproof clothing this is certainly an acquired taste which rewards the investment.
Add a dash of sun and turn the wind down a notch or two and you've got yourself beaches here which are every bit as inviting as any I've had the pleasure of visiting. Soft sand, clear water, some of the best waves for surfing in the world and an absolute lack of development result in a beach-time bonanza.
Last night I went to a small beach a short drive away to watch the sunset and to roll around on a sand dune, today I walked with my three year old niece(ish) to the nearest beach and tonight I may wander down there again, it's only about a ten minute walk away so why not.
Speaking of my niece we sat outside the bakers for a little chat today while she nibbled at a cheese and asparagus pie. We were talking about Mums and Dads and she asked me what my Dad's name is. I told her and that I hadn't seen him for a while, she asked me if he was a little bit angry, I said I supposed he was, she asked me if he was far away and I said he was and she said he must be a little bit sad which again, I supposed he was. I haven't seen my Dad for about 15 years and a little three year old seemed to have it all worked out.
I suppose that may be one of those things that's only interesting to a doting Uncle(ish) but it just seemed a bit odd.
Anyway, I was meaning to detail the edited highlights of the local paper which hit the streets yesterday. You may think that not much happens in a place with only 1800 residents but you'd be terribly, terribly mistaken in your estimation. I don't want to give too much away now so I'll get back to you later with all the news.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Broccoli - the return
Just testing out w.bloggar and it appears to be terribly clever although in my idiocy I wasn't able to change the settings as directed under the FAQ's.
Anyway, that's not very interesting so I'll return to the stimulating subject offered previously and cruelly withdrawn without a by your leave.
Do you remember the glory days of August 2004, the 17th I think it was? I was about to launch into an invigorating and enlightening tale concerning the well known and much loved vegetable, broccoli when I was stopped in my tracks by the sighting of a very dead dog.
Well, several readers have writen in begging me to reveal the mysteries of the familar green vegetable and being a chap who responds well to repeated pleas for mercy I'll lay my vegetable related cards on the table right now.
Not 6 months ago, soon after arrival on this charming island I was caught up in a whirlwind of enthusiasm for rural pursuits and decided to prepare a likely looking vegetable patch for planting. Said patch was left by the previous occupant of our hill-top residence and even to my novice gardeners eye (would that be a green-green eye?) had all the hallmarks of a rich and fertile soil. It was brown.
No sooner had I cleared the area of a particularly persistent grass than my little, chubby legs were pounding towards the local seed purveyor with a few moist coins clasped in my sausage like fingers. Radishes, silver beet (don't ask me), dill, beetroot and rocket were all tilled and trowled and left to spring to life in the miraculous way that the good lord intended.
As indicated on the packet it only took 8 short weeks...for nothing to happen so I trudged back to the previously mentioned shop and cheated with some seedlings. The silverbeet variety also died a slow death but the broccoli, being full of iron, sprang to life and stands proudly to attention out there as I write. even cut a couple of the heads off the other day and they tasted great. Well, I say that but they tasted pretty much like the broccoli purchased from a shop but they were certainly greener.
So there you have it.
And now, the sun is shining, more shoots are peering out to see what the world has to offer, I've shared my broccoli story and can now bring this interminable saga to a close. Just wait until I get going with the parsely cuttings. You ain't read nuffink yet. (Doom, doom, B.B.B.B.Baby)
Anyway, that's not very interesting so I'll return to the stimulating subject offered previously and cruelly withdrawn without a by your leave.
Do you remember the glory days of August 2004, the 17th I think it was? I was about to launch into an invigorating and enlightening tale concerning the well known and much loved vegetable, broccoli when I was stopped in my tracks by the sighting of a very dead dog.
Well, several readers have writen in begging me to reveal the mysteries of the familar green vegetable and being a chap who responds well to repeated pleas for mercy I'll lay my vegetable related cards on the table right now.
Not 6 months ago, soon after arrival on this charming island I was caught up in a whirlwind of enthusiasm for rural pursuits and decided to prepare a likely looking vegetable patch for planting. Said patch was left by the previous occupant of our hill-top residence and even to my novice gardeners eye (would that be a green-green eye?) had all the hallmarks of a rich and fertile soil. It was brown.
No sooner had I cleared the area of a particularly persistent grass than my little, chubby legs were pounding towards the local seed purveyor with a few moist coins clasped in my sausage like fingers. Radishes, silver beet (don't ask me), dill, beetroot and rocket were all tilled and trowled and left to spring to life in the miraculous way that the good lord intended.
As indicated on the packet it only took 8 short weeks...for nothing to happen so I trudged back to the previously mentioned shop and cheated with some seedlings. The silverbeet variety also died a slow death but the broccoli, being full of iron, sprang to life and stands proudly to attention out there as I write. even cut a couple of the heads off the other day and they tasted great. Well, I say that but they tasted pretty much like the broccoli purchased from a shop but they were certainly greener.
So there you have it.
And now, the sun is shining, more shoots are peering out to see what the world has to offer, I've shared my broccoli story and can now bring this interminable saga to a close. Just wait until I get going with the parsely cuttings. You ain't read nuffink yet. (Doom, doom, B.B.B.B.Baby)
Monday, August 23, 2004
More water
Beautiful day today so I took the opportunity to clean out the water tank. The local water supply is apparently of a pretty poor quality so a tank outside our kitchen window collects all the rainwater from the roof which is fed into a tap by the sink.
I’ve long harboured suspicions concerning the quality of this water as there is always a thin skim of red particles floating on top of the water in the kettle and a reddish glow to a glass of water drawn from said tap.
So today I drained the tank before turning it on its side in order to flush out any rust which may have accumulated at the bottom of the tank. Imagine my surprise as gallons of black, stinking mud splattered onto the lawn (and over me). I still smell of it actually and it can’t have done much good to my intestines in the six months or so I’ve been drinking from it.
I imagine that will explain the excessive flatulence I’ve been experiencing since I arrived although all I need to do now is to come up with a reason for a similar complaint in pretty much all of my previous residences.
Anyway, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, until the water started to run clear (or until I got bored which was luckily enough around the time the water became ‘acceptably’ clear).
All back in place now and waiting for rain….
Shouldn’t be too long now…
I’ll keep you posted.
I’ve long harboured suspicions concerning the quality of this water as there is always a thin skim of red particles floating on top of the water in the kettle and a reddish glow to a glass of water drawn from said tap.
So today I drained the tank before turning it on its side in order to flush out any rust which may have accumulated at the bottom of the tank. Imagine my surprise as gallons of black, stinking mud splattered onto the lawn (and over me). I still smell of it actually and it can’t have done much good to my intestines in the six months or so I’ve been drinking from it.
I imagine that will explain the excessive flatulence I’ve been experiencing since I arrived although all I need to do now is to come up with a reason for a similar complaint in pretty much all of my previous residences.
Anyway, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, drained it, squirted it, until the water started to run clear (or until I got bored which was luckily enough around the time the water became ‘acceptably’ clear).
All back in place now and waiting for rain….
Shouldn’t be too long now…
I’ll keep you posted.
Saturday, August 21, 2004
What's A Metaphor?
Yesterday I went for a late afternoon stroll to the beach with a nameless four legged friend. We had a nice enough time I suppose, explored another section of river, sheltered from some rain, threw things in the water, that sort of thing.
On the way back we emerged from dense bush onto a cleared section which is presumeably a firebreak to protect the downtown area from the ravages of an unlikely fire. I've studied this area previously as it's soil is very similar to our garden (sandy) so I contemplated taking small bushes and the like and transplanting them at home in the hope that something may live for more than a day or two. Imagine my surprise as my eye was caught by a small but perfectly formed plant at my feet, only an inch or two in height with four or five white trumpet like flowers amongst strong looking green leaves.
It looked very much like the minature death lilies which appear to grow in wet soil on the island but which are more usually several feet high. I grabbed a piece of wood and started to gently probe the ground around the base of the plant in order to remove it, roots and all, from the soil.
It appeared to come away quite easily and I reached for the base to avoid any brekages and clasped a single piece of wire. Yes, it was plastic.
Great.
On the way back we emerged from dense bush onto a cleared section which is presumeably a firebreak to protect the downtown area from the ravages of an unlikely fire. I've studied this area previously as it's soil is very similar to our garden (sandy) so I contemplated taking small bushes and the like and transplanting them at home in the hope that something may live for more than a day or two. Imagine my surprise as my eye was caught by a small but perfectly formed plant at my feet, only an inch or two in height with four or five white trumpet like flowers amongst strong looking green leaves.
It looked very much like the minature death lilies which appear to grow in wet soil on the island but which are more usually several feet high. I grabbed a piece of wood and started to gently probe the ground around the base of the plant in order to remove it, roots and all, from the soil.
It appeared to come away quite easily and I reached for the base to avoid any brekages and clasped a single piece of wire. Yes, it was plastic.
Great.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Wild Goose Chase
Imagine my surprise yesterday as I heard a familar knock, knock at the door and hollered to welcome in the usual post-school coffee drinkers and biscuit eaters only to find an unfamilar visitor entering via the back door.
'Twas the Director of the local Dramatic Society no less, script in hand, cards on the table and down to business.
I'd previously agreed to accept a small role in the play (scheduled for next March) without knowing much about it but reckoning that it would probably be a bit of a hoot one way or another. However, it appears that the leading ACTOR from previous productions is unavailable and I was to be offered the opportunity to step into the breach (as 'twer).
Don't want to give too much away at this stage (and I've only read the first act) but it's a farce, set in a castle and involves a great many of the familiar farcical devices of mistaken identity, missing telegrams, senile old men and general madcap humour. I'll tell you more once I've finished the script.
Not only that but I've also taken the opportunity to have a look at the jobs available on www.jobsearch.gov.au and it appears there are no less than 10 food processing positions currently available on the island. The advert reads, "Staff required in the Smithton area for sea food processing. Working within a team, experience not essential. Must be keen and enjoy repetitive work."
They make it sound very alluring with their sparse prose but I don't want to get my hopes up too much as there's nowhere on the island by the name of Smithton so it may well transpire to be some dreadful mistake. I'll give them a call and try to clarify the position but if anyone else out there is excited by the prospect of repetitive work with seafood then they should delay not.
Call 03 64316485 and quote job ID 88800832.
Maybe see you there.
'Twas the Director of the local Dramatic Society no less, script in hand, cards on the table and down to business.
I'd previously agreed to accept a small role in the play (scheduled for next March) without knowing much about it but reckoning that it would probably be a bit of a hoot one way or another. However, it appears that the leading ACTOR from previous productions is unavailable and I was to be offered the opportunity to step into the breach (as 'twer).
Don't want to give too much away at this stage (and I've only read the first act) but it's a farce, set in a castle and involves a great many of the familiar farcical devices of mistaken identity, missing telegrams, senile old men and general madcap humour. I'll tell you more once I've finished the script.
Not only that but I've also taken the opportunity to have a look at the jobs available on www.jobsearch.gov.au and it appears there are no less than 10 food processing positions currently available on the island. The advert reads, "Staff required in the Smithton area for sea food processing. Working within a team, experience not essential. Must be keen and enjoy repetitive work."
They make it sound very alluring with their sparse prose but I don't want to get my hopes up too much as there's nowhere on the island by the name of Smithton so it may well transpire to be some dreadful mistake. I'll give them a call and try to clarify the position but if anyone else out there is excited by the prospect of repetitive work with seafood then they should delay not.
Call 03 64316485 and quote job ID 88800832.
Maybe see you there.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Gaz Would Be Proud
Been playing with my template today (using HTML!) and aside from one obvious error (which I'll remedy tomorrow) I'm rather pleased with the additional information on the sidebar.
Other news includes
- Mowed the lawn.
- No new dead animals.
- No employment.
- Becoming obsessed with lists.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Dead Dog
What a day! I started to write earlier before the rest of the day intervened and the topic du jour was going to be broccoli.
I think I’ll hold that one in abeyance for a quiet news day as events have arisen which will regrettably force the subject of vegetables eaten for dinner last night right off the news agenda.
Firstly my temporary visa came through today which means that I can work. More precisely it means I can work legally. To be exact, I could apply for legal work if there was any available on the island.
Last week a job in the supermarket was snatched from under my nose and I narrowly (and thankfully) missed out on a job as a deck hand on a fishing boat.
But lo and behold today I picked up the local paper and flicked straight through to the classifieds section and found one singular, solitary, sole entry which is as a milker for 800 cows. There’s no mention of the pay but I imagine that milking 800 cows would command a fair price, perhaps you get paid by the udder. I’m not what you’d call over qualified but I do have my own stool and a bucket (plastic unfortunately but once I’ve been paid for my first week I’ll splash out on a metal pail or two and one of those wooden things that place behind your neck when carrying said pails).
From what I can remember of milking I should think that each cow will take about 15 minutes once I’ve got into the swing of it so that means in an 8 hour day I should be able to do 32 and I’ll have the remaining 768 done in 24 working days so allowing for sick days and holidays I should be able to get them all done in little over a month. Perfect! I’ll call them up later tonight.
Not only that but I also saw a dead dog today.
It was under a bush and appeared to have a broken neck. I saw it at the start of my walk and suspected the worse but continued on to the beach taking the precaution if hunting out a dead-dog-poking-stick for use on the way back. I thought it may be deaf or very poorly and didn’t like the thought of leaving it out in the cold when I could whisk it away to someone who knows about such things. I poked it and it failed to move but thankfully it held together as I’d have been most perturbed were its leg to be prodded off.
As I withdrew the stick and myself from beneath the bush I couldn’t help noticing several sun bleached bones scattered around the general area. Perhaps, I thought, this is buy the most recent in a long line of dead dogs, a canine version of an elephants graveyard. Or perhaps a large predator broke it’s neck and left it there for consumption at a later date. Or maybe it’s neck was broken in a domestic incident and it has been disposed of in haste to avoid upsetting the children.
I’ll keep an eye on it and let you know.
So you see. How could broccoli compete with another dead animal to add to the glorious list of dead animals spotted on my travels. There’s reportedly been a sperm whale washed up on a beach not too far from here. That would be one for the album.
Broccoli? Pah!
I think I’ll hold that one in abeyance for a quiet news day as events have arisen which will regrettably force the subject of vegetables eaten for dinner last night right off the news agenda.
Firstly my temporary visa came through today which means that I can work. More precisely it means I can work legally. To be exact, I could apply for legal work if there was any available on the island.
Last week a job in the supermarket was snatched from under my nose and I narrowly (and thankfully) missed out on a job as a deck hand on a fishing boat.
But lo and behold today I picked up the local paper and flicked straight through to the classifieds section and found one singular, solitary, sole entry which is as a milker for 800 cows. There’s no mention of the pay but I imagine that milking 800 cows would command a fair price, perhaps you get paid by the udder. I’m not what you’d call over qualified but I do have my own stool and a bucket (plastic unfortunately but once I’ve been paid for my first week I’ll splash out on a metal pail or two and one of those wooden things that place behind your neck when carrying said pails).
From what I can remember of milking I should think that each cow will take about 15 minutes once I’ve got into the swing of it so that means in an 8 hour day I should be able to do 32 and I’ll have the remaining 768 done in 24 working days so allowing for sick days and holidays I should be able to get them all done in little over a month. Perfect! I’ll call them up later tonight.
Not only that but I also saw a dead dog today.
It was under a bush and appeared to have a broken neck. I saw it at the start of my walk and suspected the worse but continued on to the beach taking the precaution if hunting out a dead-dog-poking-stick for use on the way back. I thought it may be deaf or very poorly and didn’t like the thought of leaving it out in the cold when I could whisk it away to someone who knows about such things. I poked it and it failed to move but thankfully it held together as I’d have been most perturbed were its leg to be prodded off.
As I withdrew the stick and myself from beneath the bush I couldn’t help noticing several sun bleached bones scattered around the general area. Perhaps, I thought, this is buy the most recent in a long line of dead dogs, a canine version of an elephants graveyard. Or perhaps a large predator broke it’s neck and left it there for consumption at a later date. Or maybe it’s neck was broken in a domestic incident and it has been disposed of in haste to avoid upsetting the children.
I’ll keep an eye on it and let you know.
So you see. How could broccoli compete with another dead animal to add to the glorious list of dead animals spotted on my travels. There’s reportedly been a sperm whale washed up on a beach not too far from here. That would be one for the album.
Broccoli? Pah!
Monday, August 16, 2004
Relief all round
Over the last couple of weeks I've taken to exploring the course of a local river from where it enters the sea at Big Beach up towards town and out into the hinterland beyond. There seems to be no access to the river until about a kilometer upstream where it meets a road and enters a picnic area.
The river is only a meter or two wide and never that deep so it could hardly be described as one of the last great frontiers but for someone who passes the time by imagining breaking a leg and surviving on the few provisions purchased from the local supermarket it offers some sort of a challenge.
The reason for mentioning this otherwise dull pastime is that at places where the water has cause to tumble over rocks on its meandering path to the sea large mounds of foam form. Being a city boy and well used to a wide vaiety of pollutants this would ordinarily not cause me any concern but this island is basically free of industry (other than a cheese factory and an abattoir). I therefore assumed it was some sort of a natural phenomena but being unfamiliar with the ways of nature I couldn't come up with a plausible explanation.
About the closest I could get was come sort of a frog spawn but as I've not heard anything about plagues of 6 feet tall frogs I didn't think that would suffice so I put it to a local who informed me that it could be due to the use of phosphates in farming.
This came as a bit of a blow I don't mind telling you. It's all very well living in a cold and wet climate with very little to do for amusement other than drinking alcohol and watching TV but to find that the place is also bad for ones health seemed a bit much to take.
Imagine my relief therefore when I found an entirely natural, additive free explanation for this unsightly mess. Apparently, when small aquatic plants die they decompose and release fatty acids into the water. This is apparently something similar to soap so, hey presto, bubbles form.
The river is only a meter or two wide and never that deep so it could hardly be described as one of the last great frontiers but for someone who passes the time by imagining breaking a leg and surviving on the few provisions purchased from the local supermarket it offers some sort of a challenge.
The reason for mentioning this otherwise dull pastime is that at places where the water has cause to tumble over rocks on its meandering path to the sea large mounds of foam form. Being a city boy and well used to a wide vaiety of pollutants this would ordinarily not cause me any concern but this island is basically free of industry (other than a cheese factory and an abattoir). I therefore assumed it was some sort of a natural phenomena but being unfamiliar with the ways of nature I couldn't come up with a plausible explanation.
About the closest I could get was come sort of a frog spawn but as I've not heard anything about plagues of 6 feet tall frogs I didn't think that would suffice so I put it to a local who informed me that it could be due to the use of phosphates in farming.
This came as a bit of a blow I don't mind telling you. It's all very well living in a cold and wet climate with very little to do for amusement other than drinking alcohol and watching TV but to find that the place is also bad for ones health seemed a bit much to take.
Imagine my relief therefore when I found an entirely natural, additive free explanation for this unsightly mess. Apparently, when small aquatic plants die they decompose and release fatty acids into the water. This is apparently something similar to soap so, hey presto, bubbles form.
While on the subject of additives to water, did you know that holy water has salt in it?
I wonder why the sudden fascination with water and realise that in my efforts not to mention the three things I said previously that I mention too much (D & C & the W) I'm left with only water.
No wonder I'm depressed, this whole bloody thing was supposed to be an amusing slice of life and it's turned into a pitiful expose of how dreary and pathetic my life has become.
I'd like to write more about the people I've met since I came to this island as they're much more interesting than me but everything about them which strikes me as noteworthy is usually something which highlights a negative aspect of their personality and I don't want to appear as someone who is bitter, negative and nasty. Perhaps more importantly they're mostly bigger than me and as there are only 1,800 people on the island it will be hard to avoid them.
Not that anyone is reading this of course. Why would you? It's about water.
So either I keep writing about water, D's, C and the W and bore myself stupid or I risk offending people who are bigger than me. Therein lies the problem.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Cloud Juice
Yesterday I went to work at a water factory which is not where water is made but where previously made water is bottled. Specifically it's rain water which is collected on a plastic roof at the south of the island, transported to a part-time milk factory before being cleansed and decanted into plastic or glass bottles.
I should point out for any immigration officers reading this that I don't gain any financial reward for this work although I hope to do so in the future once my work visa comes through. The time I spend at the factory is a combination of work-experience and the giving of assistance to a friend (Duncan the "proud father" of the company).
On reflection I can't think of anything interesting to say about my day yesterday so I'll forget it.
Feeling a bit funny today, started good, went rapidly downhill before breakfast and have fluctuated between positivity and negativity since then.
I should point out for any immigration officers reading this that I don't gain any financial reward for this work although I hope to do so in the future once my work visa comes through. The time I spend at the factory is a combination of work-experience and the giving of assistance to a friend (Duncan the "proud father" of the company).
On reflection I can't think of anything interesting to say about my day yesterday so I'll forget it.
Feeling a bit funny today, started good, went rapidly downhill before breakfast and have fluctuated between positivity and negativity since then.
No hair
Shaved all my hair off on Friday.
Needless to say this event was not unrelated to the fact that I had temporarily suspended my non-drinking ban two hours previously but it was not a wholly impetuous act.
My hair and I have become increasingly estranged over the past few years and as I believe it has become almost obligatory for balding men of a certain age to shave their heads it is an act I have contemplated for some time.
I wouldn't ordinarily have chosen to fulfill such cultural obligations in the middle of winter but my hair was becoming increasingly unruly and children were beginning to point so I decided to pocket the $10.00 dollars it would have cost to have the job done professionally and set the clippers to work.
I had of course realised that it would be cold without hair and have taken the precaution of wearing a hat when outside but I wasn't quite prepared for the chill wind blowing around my head whilst in bed last night. I suppose I could wear a hat in bed too but it doesn't really seem right.
I suppose I'm pretty pleased with the results. Several people have said I look younger which may be one of those things you have to say when someone looks oddly different and you're not quite sure why.
No one said I look at bit peaky yet which was a concern. I'm quite thin and worried about looking undernourished but as only two sober people have seen my naked head I suppose I should give it time. This is the shortest it's been since I was born but is probably quite a dull thing to go on about so I'll tell you about my day yesterday instead.
After I've got myself a beer.
Needless to say this event was not unrelated to the fact that I had temporarily suspended my non-drinking ban two hours previously but it was not a wholly impetuous act.
My hair and I have become increasingly estranged over the past few years and as I believe it has become almost obligatory for balding men of a certain age to shave their heads it is an act I have contemplated for some time.
I wouldn't ordinarily have chosen to fulfill such cultural obligations in the middle of winter but my hair was becoming increasingly unruly and children were beginning to point so I decided to pocket the $10.00 dollars it would have cost to have the job done professionally and set the clippers to work.
I had of course realised that it would be cold without hair and have taken the precaution of wearing a hat when outside but I wasn't quite prepared for the chill wind blowing around my head whilst in bed last night. I suppose I could wear a hat in bed too but it doesn't really seem right.
I suppose I'm pretty pleased with the results. Several people have said I look younger which may be one of those things you have to say when someone looks oddly different and you're not quite sure why.
No one said I look at bit peaky yet which was a concern. I'm quite thin and worried about looking undernourished but as only two sober people have seen my naked head I suppose I should give it time. This is the shortest it's been since I was born but is probably quite a dull thing to go on about so I'll tell you about my day yesterday instead.
After I've got myself a beer.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Farewell My Concubine
Not only did I give up smoking three weeks ago (to mark the birth of my nephew - hi George) but I've also been without alcohol for more than three days now. More than anything this has served to demonstrate how dreadful it is to have to watch TV while sober, I've even had to turn it off a couple of times to read a book.
Not that I've anything against reading, in fact it would probably be true to say that I would prefer to read but I do like my TV and to find that I don't like it without the aid of one drug or other has come as a bit of a disappointment I don't mind telling you.
This problem is of course exacerbated by the fact that the day drags on for ever without a squirt or two from the box of red (kept furtively concealed in a cupboard in case the wine police come a knocking). In days of yore (Monday) it felt as though I had hardly settled down into the uncomfy chair before my lids were drooping and the electric blanket was turned up to the max in readiness for the inevitable. Now the washing-up is done, the room is tidied, I've done my exercises (yoga and press ups) and it's barely dark.
Yes, yes, I should take up knitting or write to an African child but there still comes a time when I want nothing more to settle down in front of the television for a mindless moment or two and the fact is there's nothing on. I've even tried dance classes but that proved to be too awful for words without first consuming some sort of alcoholic drink. Wendy and Michael who live next door but one drank a bottle of champagne and a bottle of wine respectively prior to attending and they seemed to have a lovely time. So, should I wish to continue this extensive period of abstemiousness, the answer lies not in Salsa.
Not that I've anything against reading, in fact it would probably be true to say that I would prefer to read but I do like my TV and to find that I don't like it without the aid of one drug or other has come as a bit of a disappointment I don't mind telling you.
This problem is of course exacerbated by the fact that the day drags on for ever without a squirt or two from the box of red (kept furtively concealed in a cupboard in case the wine police come a knocking). In days of yore (Monday) it felt as though I had hardly settled down into the uncomfy chair before my lids were drooping and the electric blanket was turned up to the max in readiness for the inevitable. Now the washing-up is done, the room is tidied, I've done my exercises (yoga and press ups) and it's barely dark.
Yes, yes, I should take up knitting or write to an African child but there still comes a time when I want nothing more to settle down in front of the television for a mindless moment or two and the fact is there's nothing on. I've even tried dance classes but that proved to be too awful for words without first consuming some sort of alcoholic drink. Wendy and Michael who live next door but one drank a bottle of champagne and a bottle of wine respectively prior to attending and they seemed to have a lovely time. So, should I wish to continue this extensive period of abstemiousness, the answer lies not in Salsa.
Some of the students at the local school have taken to chroming which is apparently what solvent abuse is called now it's undergone a rebranding exercise to make it more attractive to the kids. I wonder whether Ab Fab would be amusing with a canister of insecticide rammed up me hooter. That will be something to ponder next week for today is Friday which means the beer will flow freely, I'll be surprised and shocked by the denoument of Taggart and I'll have a jolly good laugh at Dead Ringers
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Molly and Rusty
One of the problems with sitting around at home all day is that people tend to think you’ve nothing better to do than look after their children and dogs. I believe I introduced you to Molly yesterday. She’s allegedly a cross between a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Staffordshire Bull-Terrier which sounds to me like a fairly unpleasant combination but I’m pleased to tell you that she’s a perfectly even tempered dog.
Having said that another dog has just been left in my care. This is Rusty and he’s a Kelpie. I’ve no idea what that means either but they are apparently very good farm dogs. I’ve been informed by one who should know (a farmer) that they do something clever which involves running across the back of cattle. It doesn’t sound terribly clever now I must admit but I’ll do some more research and get back to you with the missing details which will no doubt reveal Kelpies to be among the intellectual giants of the canine kingdom.
Anyway, Rusty didn’t seem to want to sit patiently at my feet so I’ve thrown him into Molly’s pen next door where he is usually savaged for a couple of hours until the radio no longer drowns out the noise of his crying and I reluctantly retrieve him from Molly’s slavering jaws. I was told last week about another dog in a similar situation who plucked out the eye of his playtime companion. That would be embarrassing. For all concerned I imagine.
That’s pretty much the sum of my life at present. Other people’s dogs, other people’s children and the weather. In fact I can’t believe that I’m writing my third entry and I’ve yet to mention the weath…oh no, I went on about it in the last one didn’t I, storms, wind, waves and that sort of thing. Well, I’ve not mentioned any children yet have I? There’s one coming around tonight before she goes to dance classes. We live next door to the school and her parents live about half an hour away so she comes around here for an hour or so before she heads off to her hip-hop classes. Her name is Laura.
Not that I’m complaining, I like children and dogs (and weather?), it’s just that I feel I spend too much of my life talking about them. Having said that the radio is turned up as high as it goes and I can still hear the crying from next door so I’d better carry out my heroic pet rescue.
Having said that another dog has just been left in my care. This is Rusty and he’s a Kelpie. I’ve no idea what that means either but they are apparently very good farm dogs. I’ve been informed by one who should know (a farmer) that they do something clever which involves running across the back of cattle. It doesn’t sound terribly clever now I must admit but I’ll do some more research and get back to you with the missing details which will no doubt reveal Kelpies to be among the intellectual giants of the canine kingdom.
Anyway, Rusty didn’t seem to want to sit patiently at my feet so I’ve thrown him into Molly’s pen next door where he is usually savaged for a couple of hours until the radio no longer drowns out the noise of his crying and I reluctantly retrieve him from Molly’s slavering jaws. I was told last week about another dog in a similar situation who plucked out the eye of his playtime companion. That would be embarrassing. For all concerned I imagine.
That’s pretty much the sum of my life at present. Other people’s dogs, other people’s children and the weather. In fact I can’t believe that I’m writing my third entry and I’ve yet to mention the weath…oh no, I went on about it in the last one didn’t I, storms, wind, waves and that sort of thing. Well, I’ve not mentioned any children yet have I? There’s one coming around tonight before she goes to dance classes. We live next door to the school and her parents live about half an hour away so she comes around here for an hour or so before she heads off to her hip-hop classes. Her name is Laura.
Not that I’m complaining, I like children and dogs (and weather?), it’s just that I feel I spend too much of my life talking about them. Having said that the radio is turned up as high as it goes and I can still hear the crying from next door so I’d better carry out my heroic pet rescue.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Making the best of it
...And make the best of it I did by taking the neighbours’ dog out for our daily constitutional.
Popped down to town to pick up the paper and a few supplies before taking the high road through Bicentennial Park where we once again enjoyed the local wildlife. On this occasion it was a wallaby with a beautifully sleek head but with it’s rib cage exposed to the world, all red and bloody but remarkably intact. No sign of the signature springy legs but good to see none the less.
Molly (said dog) and I like nothing more than spotting wildlife on our travels, we’ve seen and sniffed all sorts. Today’s was probably the most visceral and penguin’s are the most collectable but we like our wildlife any way it comes just so long as it’s dead and preferably putrescent.
The wind was up so we were battered and beaten by the onshore gale and soaked by the resultant spray so turned inland with some relief as we continued our walk down the bucolically named Tip Road where you’ll be surprised to hear, the local rubbish tip is located.
I hesitate to mention the tip as it’s a bit of a “local issue” as regular readers will probably know (yes, yes, pedant!). Apparently they want to move it somewhere else but someone else doesn’t want them to and I’m not sure whether they is the council, a local pressure group or a local busy-body. Anyway, the usual NIMBIE’s are involved and we’re all up in arms about it as a cursory look at the local paper will tell you. I was even stopped outside the bakers by a local child who was conducting a lame excuse for a survey.
“Do you think the tip should move?” Of course I didn’t want to appear ignorant but despite closely following the issue I’m not sure whether the goodies or the baddies want to move it, I don’t know where they want to move it to and I don’t know why they want to move it. Why not leave it there? What will they call Tip Road if it doesn’t have a tip on it? Anyway, being a person of some conviction I opted for change and told him I think it should move, luckily the survey ended pretty much as soon as it began and I wasn’t pressed on my reasoning. I can only hope it was the right answer.
Popped down to town to pick up the paper and a few supplies before taking the high road through Bicentennial Park where we once again enjoyed the local wildlife. On this occasion it was a wallaby with a beautifully sleek head but with it’s rib cage exposed to the world, all red and bloody but remarkably intact. No sign of the signature springy legs but good to see none the less.
Molly (said dog) and I like nothing more than spotting wildlife on our travels, we’ve seen and sniffed all sorts. Today’s was probably the most visceral and penguin’s are the most collectable but we like our wildlife any way it comes just so long as it’s dead and preferably putrescent.
The wind was up so we were battered and beaten by the onshore gale and soaked by the resultant spray so turned inland with some relief as we continued our walk down the bucolically named Tip Road where you’ll be surprised to hear, the local rubbish tip is located.
I hesitate to mention the tip as it’s a bit of a “local issue” as regular readers will probably know (yes, yes, pedant!). Apparently they want to move it somewhere else but someone else doesn’t want them to and I’m not sure whether they is the council, a local pressure group or a local busy-body. Anyway, the usual NIMBIE’s are involved and we’re all up in arms about it as a cursory look at the local paper will tell you. I was even stopped outside the bakers by a local child who was conducting a lame excuse for a survey.
“Do you think the tip should move?” Of course I didn’t want to appear ignorant but despite closely following the issue I’m not sure whether the goodies or the baddies want to move it, I don’t know where they want to move it to and I don’t know why they want to move it. Why not leave it there? What will they call Tip Road if it doesn’t have a tip on it? Anyway, being a person of some conviction I opted for change and told him I think it should move, luckily the survey ended pretty much as soon as it began and I wasn’t pressed on my reasoning. I can only hope it was the right answer.
Bored?
There's probably some rule about starting on a positive note or not being introspective but I haven't even received a confirmation email in which one might suppose such rules would be detailed. There was probably something I had to agree to while setting this up but I can't believe that anyone reads those so any rules in there would be just plain wasteful.
Can that really be all I have to offer. Last night in bed when I decided to start writing this my mind was chock-a-block full of profound witticisms but that may have more to do with not drinking alcohol for once and desperatley trying to fill my mind with anything other than worry about having to lie there for hour after hour. Not that it would really matter if I did lie there for hours on end, unable to sleep, as I've nothing to get up for anyway.
I'm between jobs at present you see and my usual raison d'etre is rising to do the washing-up of a morning but thanks to the lack of alcohol last night I took advantage of all that wonderful time and gathered the soapy rosebuds of opportunity right there and then.
I was so bored after that I watched The Bill. My mind was screaming in agony even as I reached for the remote but thanks to my Zen-like powers of self control I managed to sit all the way through it and believe that I came out the other side a better, wiser and stronger person who will not do drugs, will not be violent towards my partner and who has a new-found respect for the Police as they just want to help and have feelings too you know.
Today however is another day and I intend to use it wisely.
Can that really be all I have to offer. Last night in bed when I decided to start writing this my mind was chock-a-block full of profound witticisms but that may have more to do with not drinking alcohol for once and desperatley trying to fill my mind with anything other than worry about having to lie there for hour after hour. Not that it would really matter if I did lie there for hours on end, unable to sleep, as I've nothing to get up for anyway.
I'm between jobs at present you see and my usual raison d'etre is rising to do the washing-up of a morning but thanks to the lack of alcohol last night I took advantage of all that wonderful time and gathered the soapy rosebuds of opportunity right there and then.
I was so bored after that I watched The Bill. My mind was screaming in agony even as I reached for the remote but thanks to my Zen-like powers of self control I managed to sit all the way through it and believe that I came out the other side a better, wiser and stronger person who will not do drugs, will not be violent towards my partner and who has a new-found respect for the Police as they just want to help and have feelings too you know.
Today however is another day and I intend to use it wisely.
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