Some Wisdom

If you should ever find yourself in possession of a second hand car with a faulty fuel gauge then I have some advice for you.

You may be tempted to discover how long the said vehicle will run with the fuel warning light on and if so I would suggest that you carry out your experiments without straying too far from home and endeavour to do so during daylight hours.

If you are tempted to get up at 3.30 in the morning to drive a pasty faced imbecile to work then I would suggest that you fill up with petrol before you do so.

I am in a position to impart this sound advice as this morning I found myself at 3.40 am standing six kilometres from home on a very, very dark road. I am not used to rising at this hour and as a consequence was half asleep. I was also without underpants and socks although I had taken the precaution of wearing trousers and shoes.

I was unable to think of anyone who would be pleased to hear from me at this hour so put all thoughts of phoning a rescuer out of my mind. Fortunately it was a mild morning/night and I did consider sleeping in the car for a few hours until there was more/some traffic on the road.

Regrettably I only considered this possibility after walking for two kilometres by which time I felt that to turn back would have been to admit defeat.

After two more kilometres I began to see the funny side which went some way to alleviating the crushing boredom of walking along in the darkenss by the side of a road which is not what one might call inspiring during the hours of daylight. This humour also indicated that I was waking up which was not something I readily aspired to.

It only took about an hour to get home at which point I retired to bed.

I have now retrieved the car and have filled the tank with petrol.

Horse. Stable. Bolted. Locked. After.

Sunny Sunday

Today has been a lovely day and has gone some way to lifting my mood. I was going to write something yesterday but I was sulking a bit and didn't want to come across as the kind of chap who only writes when he's unhappy.

The current temperature is a pitiful 15.9 and is falling but that's to be expected as it's ten past eight in the evening. The high today was apparently 24 which is quite something as last week was too cold and as a consequence I have a head cold. Of course it's not necessarily a consequence of the weather being as how it's probably caused by germs and the like and it's certaibly not interesting so I'll drop the whole subject without further ado.

I did work today and I did start at 6.00 in the morning. To make up for it however I did go to a barbeque and drink beer and wine which is some recompense for spending eight and a half hours stuck in a refridgerated room piercing holes in cheese (Ash, Centenary Blue and Bass Strait if you're interested).

Oh, but enough about me and my hilarious stories. What about you? How have you spent the weekend?

I did rather expect to come back to this whole writing caper with some vim and vigour but it appears that I've already managed to talk about the weather, moan about cheese and ask fruitless questions which will remain forever unanswered.

Perhaps I should have stuck with the original plan and written when I was in a foul mood. People love that, bit of swearing maybe.

To tell the truth I'm only here because I had a choice between watching Project Runway and Australian Idol and I'm trying to appear aloof and above Reality TV so I came down here to waste some time.

Job done.

Great News!

I can only imagine how deflating it must be for my army of loyal readers who return daily, sometimes a couple of times a day, and find that I have offered no more wisdoms up to the people.

The good news is that I'm back...and I'm in a really foul mood.

My Mother once said (actually it was someone else's mother and I heard it second hand), if you can't think of anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.

So I'll wait until the positive chi out-battles the negative ions and then I'll be back properly.

In the meantime a word from our sponsor.

Eat apples!

The Day Before Yesterday A Man With A Beard Fondled My Genitalia

It sounds odd I know but it's been some years since a man, hirsute or otherwise, played with my genitalia. The last time I can recall it was the name of drunken tom foolery but this time was in the name of medicine.

He informed me that my, "tackle" all seemed to be functional so I'd better head off to Melbourne, spoof into a jar and let them decide why I seem to be incapable of fertitlising my woman's eggs (or whatever they are).

He did ask me if I was having vaginal intercourse which made me wonder how many people he asks who reply, " Why no, good doctor, if I'd known that was a prerequisite for impregantion I'd have desisted from taking her up the poop shoot".

At least he said he was a doctor.

Male Menopause

I reckon that might be it.

I was walking back from the shops today with my usual scowl and overbearing sense of irritation which was added to today by a severe itching all over when it dawned on me. I'm going through the menopause, this is what it's like.

Consider the facts.

I've been pissed off for the last couple of weeks with no good reason (apart from the giving up smoking while living on an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing except fishing, fighting and farting for a social life) and now I feel itchy and hot.

Tomorrow I'm going to the doctors to arrange a dirty weekend in Melbourne where I've got to wank into a jar (don't ask).

That should cheer me up (the trip to the doctors rather than the wank into a jar - which probably will cheer me up come to think of it).

Ambivalence to Ambiguity

So this is it, my 100th blog...and it's only taken me how many years to get here, what a pathetic creature I am.

But hey, let's not be too hard, that's not what I logged on for today, today I wanted to write about my ambiguous feelings with regard to living here.

I am about to commence my third year on the island and while I have spent most of the last two years moaning about it to anyone who showed the slightest interest I now find myself quite enjoying the lifestyle.

It goes without saying that we have pretty much decided to do this year and then make other plans which any clown will tell you has probably made me more inclined to enjoy myself but I've also taken to swimming in the sea, swimming in the pool and generally making more of an effort.

But I feel rather moody and not inconsiderably irritable. Did I mention that I've given up smoking and last month started my 40th year?

So to summarise (in a triumphant and rousing end to my 100th Blog) I feel a bit queer but I don't know whether it's attributable to

• Being middle aged.
• Giving up smoking.
• The prospect of leaving my home of the last two years and heading back into a maelstrom of family and friends and a failed career.
• Being generally inclined to depression and confusion about life.

Now that's what I call an uplifting dismount. I can almost hear the soaring strings.

's bin so long

I can't even remember where I was when I last wrote.

Wherever it was I imagine that I was bemoaning the fact that I was soooo busy and promising to write again soon with plenty of interesting anecdotes and stories which will change your life.

I didn't.

I either lied or was delusional which may or may no be the same thing as there are three types of liars, people who know they are lying, people who don't know they lying and a third type which lie. I know there's more to it than that but I was reading on the toilet and it was all over before I had a chance to digest the complete article.

Next time I go for a sit down I'll fill you in more comprehensively on the matter but as I'm a little irregular at the moment it may not be for some time.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I'm back so....well, so!

Century My Arse

Yeah, yeah, 100 entries seemed so easy back in the days when I only had two jobs. Now I'm swamped and have no time to write about how dull my life is.

I'm off to Singapore and Thailand on Saturday (well Sunday actuallt as the flight leaves just after midnight for any pedantic stalkers who might be inclined to correct me). That's not boring.

Neither is the condition known as Cheese turner's hypoglycaemia. I only stumbled on it today and I'm pretty sure I've got it. I can't find out much about cheese turning and there's very little information out there about this illness which is probably afflicting cheese turners all over the world and may well explain why all my colleagues are repeatedly absent from work. I think there's a bit of a hush-up going on and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Even if it goes right to the top.

If you don't hear from me for a while it will be for one of the following reasons.

• I'm enjoying myself in Asia.
• I'm seriously ill with cheese turners hypoglycameia.
• I've been silenced to keep a lid on the whole sordid mess.

I may have died from another unrelated cause I suppose but how likely is that?

I ask you!