Holy crap it's another blog from Dan, quick, get the family off to bed and pass me the bowl of nuts, this is one read I'm going to enjoy. Thank you Dan...thank you.
So because of all our various tenant problems, mainly that the guy won't pay his rent or move out of our house, we are currently failing miserably to pay rent in Sydney and a mortgage in London. Given our financial predicament, we thought what a cracking idea it might be to book a trip to Tasmania. After all, if you don't have the money the bastards can't make you pay for it, right?
After finding some rip-roaring fares on Virgin Blue we nip across the Tasman Sea and arrive in Launceston in Northern Tasmania. It's pretty grim, so we grab our hire car, slam it in first and get the hell out of there, leaving nothing but a trail of road kill and a whiff of burning rubber in our wake.
We opt for the scenic route taking in the Bay of Fires on the Eastern coast (nice long white sandy beach with no one on it) and Wineglass Bay further South (nice long white sandy beach with no one on it but you have to walk an hour to get there.)
All very pretty and the weather wasn't too bad either. I was fully expecting it to be chucking it down the entire time I was there, given I’d read the horrifying statistic that seven out of every ten days are rainy. Yes...I read it after I'd booked the tickets. Hey ho.
So we drive down to Port Arthur, a former convict settlement and the best preserved in Australia. It's a World Heritage site and, honestly it's pretty spectacular. They've done a spiffing job with the grounds. No one actually lives there anymore, it's just the town as it was back in the old days. We stayed at a guesthouse called Cascades (which also happens to be a convict settlement) about ten minutes up the road. Our cottage is sort-of cosy, it's where one of the soldiers used to live in the 19th century and looks like it hasn't been decorated since. There's an open fire place, a nice rocking chair and a faint hint of death about the place. Fuck, this cottage gives me the creeps. It's all decked out like a scene from Rosemary's Baby.
Alison decides this is a good opportunity to do the infamous Port Arthur Ghost Walk. I'm dubious but what the hey, not like I'm going to die or anything. So we follow this ample lady around the settlement who looked like she'd copped it in the face with a three iron. She recounts stories of death, mayhem and strange happenings to previous tour groups. All jolly scary. Of course, when the tour ends we have to jump back in our car and drive the ten minutes through pitch black forest back to the guesthouse. Meeting not a single other car on the way. Having been warned not to drive after dusk because the chances of hitting a wallaby or wombat increase tenfold. I opt to drive very slowly, the trees appearing eerily out of the shadows. Fuck this is scary. No radio. Nothing but silence. We arrive at our convict cottage. Now I'm even more spooked out. Fuck it, let's light the fire. I strike the match and watch the fire take hold. I glance around, the place is lit by one solitary light bulb in the ceiling. I glance towards Alison. I can't see her. Where the...? I suddenly realise the reason I can't see her is because the entire cottage has filled with smoke and my vision doesn't extend beyond the tears in my eyes. I start coughing, the smoke alarm beeps with a deafening blare. I start wafting a magazine near it. Nothing, blood pours down my ears. Smoke is everywhere. I open the front door. Alison goes nuts, she thinks the ghosts will get in. Outside, there’s nothing but total darkness and a lot of forest. Very Blair Witch. Whose great idea was this then? Eventually the fire righted itself and we went off to bed, wiping the soot from our faces. Neither of us slept very well that night, let me tell you.
We drove to Hobart the next day which is okay, not worth coming over the other side of the world for but there's enough to keep your interest for maybe...two hours. I kept thinking of that song Chris Tarrant used to play every day on Capital FM in the mornings. 'Hobart, Tasmania...that's my wonderful town!' It's not as wonderful as the song would have you believe. Tasmanian propaganda.
After a trip to the Cadbury’s factory (Alison's choice) and the Cascade beer factory (mine), we drove around to Cradle Mountain where it promptly rained for the rest of the trip. Nothing like going hiking in the pissing rain when you can barely see the person in front of you due to low cloud. And the cabin we stayed in there...oh don't get me started. It was called a cosy cabin and let me tell you there was nothing cosy about it. It was grimmer than a Tasmanian beauty contest.
So having had a vaguely interesting time we fly home. Now look, I know it was windy coming into Sydney airport and I understand the pilot does his best with the prevailing conditions. What I object to when we're less than two hundred feet from the ground is looking out the window and seeing ground, sky, ground, sky. I held on to Alison as hard as I could, until I realised she was sitting to my left. After apologising to the guy next to me for squeezing his hand so hard, I did a hail Mary and prayed for a positive outcome. The wheels slammed into the tarmac and I felt the aircraft swerve back towards the runway. Suddenly I was thrown forward in my seat as the pilot, apparently realising he was out of runway (and in Sydney the end of the runway is the Pacific), slammed on the brakes. The plane found its rhythm and we managed to slow. I thanked God I was still alive and had a sudden and urgent need to give money to Cancer Research or help out at a local old people's home.
So we're back in Sydney. It's a Monday night, about ten thirty and we're about to go to bed when the neighbours above us decide to have a karaoke party. Oh that's just...I sit there, stewing. Alison tries to calm me but this is not going to end well. A group of men upstairs are singing along to a Spice Girls track, and it’s by no means a decent rendition. I leave it fifteen minutes, before hopping out of bed, yanking on some clothes and walking up to their front door. I wrap three times. I can hear them inside. I wrap again. Nothing. They must be able to hear me. I knock three more times and suddenly the door is thrown open and the guy storms out saying things like 'Look we're allowed to be as noisy as we want until eleven, okay! It's just a bunch of guys having a bit of fun so don't start with your complaining because we're allowed to.' I was taken aback. I was only going to politely ask him to turn the volume down. We start arguing in the street. He's all over me, I hadn't even got a word out. Judging by the way he couldn't seem to make eye contact I surmised he must be on Ice. We argued some more. It ended with me threatening to inform the landlady, he practically chased me down the steps, berating me all the way. Jesus Christ. I got back in, slamming the door and breathing heavily. Felt like a scene out of Jurassic Park. Alison shook her head, her eyes giving me her 'told you so' look. I explained I hadn't gone off, he'd just started on me. She suggested he was probably drinking (or was on Ice). We sat there, unsure how to proceed. It had gone strangely quiet upstairs. Then I heard him come out of his front door and down our steps. Oh here we go. He probably went back to get the nine millimetre. Three knocks on our door.
'Don't you dare answer it.' Alison hisses. Three more knocks. I stand up. 'Sit down.' She says. I stand there. Three more. I go open the door, but Alison gets there before me. 'WHAT DO YOU WANT?!' She barks at him.
'Listen I just wanted to say I'm really sorry," the man stammers, ‘don't know what came over me. I'm not that type of guy normally. We'd just been drinking (or doing Ice) and I lost it. I'm really sorry.'
We accepted his apology and he asked if we fancied going out for a drink sometimes. 'Maybe' I replied, like yeah now I want to spend a couple of hours with you in an intimate setting, are you fucking insane?
Anyway, that concludes today's blog. I do hope you enjoyed it and I look forward to all your notes on grammar and spelling.
Until next time
Danster
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
IN-LAWS, DOLPHINS AND FLIES
Well chaps, after a month of travelling to various places in Australia and New Zealand I'm back with a bunch of anecdotes sure to keep those belly laughs coming, for a few minutes anyway. And before you all write in saying 'Dan this is way too long' I know okay, but that's why I broke it up in to easy-to-read segments, so you can come back to it. Or if you can't get past the first paragraph without thinking life's too short, that's why God invented the delete key.
Anyway, so having had my soon-to-be-in-laws stay for a month we decided to show them all that is good about Australia and New Zealand. Having seen the Whitsundays, I thought what a jolly fine idea it might be to show them New Zealand. So we jump on a plane and hit Christchurch at one in the morning. Man, it was quiet there. Like no traffic, no nothing. Bit scary.
We hire a car and head north up the east coast to a place called Kaikoura. Now there's really only one reason to come here, swim with dolphins. Yes my friends you get to get up at 0430 in the morning, drive to a shack, yank on a scandalously tight wetsuit and jump on a boat where they try to locate the bastards in a bay about the size of the Caspian Sea. Nice. So we don our wetsuits and, unable to breathe, head into a dark briefing room where we're shown a video presentation telling you how unlikely it is you will actually see or do anything. Now, I realise this is just about managing expectation but even so, I did have to ask myself 'If I'm not going to see any dolphins why does my bank statement say you took two hundred pounds off me. Screwed over once again. A-holes.
So after the thoroughly depressing briefing, a back door opens and we are herded on to buses. I remind you it's now 0600 and the South Island has the same climate as England so at that time, do you know how cold it was? Yes exactly.
We transfer on to this boat and go dolphin hunting. The captain says look out for them jumping or somersaulting (or hiding in the shadows, smoking crack and laughing at the silly western tourists). I can't see anything because my eyes are glued shut with sleep.
Anyway, finally we see them and we all have to move towards the back of the boat and sit with our feet in the water. I tell you, dear readers, when my feet touched that water my bollocks shot up to my chin so fast, I didn't see them again until the following day. It was so cold I actually thought I might slip in to a coma there and then. Then the captain sounds a claxon horn in my face signalling I'm supposed to get in.
When I pushed myself into that water (shaking my heading and sobbing quietly) I quickly realised why I had not been born an Eskimo. However my snorkel seemed to be working and I could just about breathe if I focussed all my attention on it. I peered into the water. Nothing. Not a sausage. Just dark, cold murky water. Fuck. What the hell am I doing? I glance up at my dolphin -swimming colleagues who have all swam away humming and singing.
See, they tell you in the briefing that you have to entertain the dolphins so they're curious and swim up to you. I do this, I'm told, by singing and humming and swimming in a 'dolphin-like' way or generally looking like a bellend. Okay, if it's a bellend they want, I can oblige. So I start humming and messing about and sure enough, out of the gloomy darkness two shapes fly into view. Dusky dolphins. They swim around me; I have to spin to keep up. They swim under me and disappear back into darkness. Wow, this making a penis of myself really does work. I try it again. Another finds me, I spend about a minute making eye contact with it whilst changing my tone and pace of my humming. I can see by the dolphin's expression, I can see he's thinking 'Look at you in your stupid flippers. That wet suit looks a bit snug. Look how fast I can swim, come on...catch me you lazy bastard.' Then he buggers off.
This goes on and on, more and more dolphins. Gotta say, it was pretty special. We were in the water for about 45 minutes and I barely noticed it.
The rest of New Zealand in 8 sentences.
After that we drive further north to the Marlborough wine region. Very nice, although New Zealand really only makes decent white wine which I confess I'm not a big fan of but hell, alcohol is alcohol isn't it?
Then we drive up to Marlborough Sounds where we board a mail boat for a little trip on the water. Very pretty, blah blah.
Next, it's over to Nelson for some stunning walking along the coast, very nice, recommended.
After that we head over to Westport, New Zeland's industrial shithole...however the road down the west coast is pretty spectacular so did a bit of that.
Then Arthur's Pass, a staggering drive through the mountains. Holy crap, I think my mouth was open most of the way through that which the sandflies loved.
Once we returned to Australia we had a couple of days before Alison's parents left, so we take them up to Palm Beach (where they shoot Home & Away). It's 35 degrees, cloudy and so humid I started to wish I'd put deodorant on my balls.
We arrive, get out of the car and are confronted with something about Australia I'd heard about but never properly experienced before today. Flies. Hundreds of them. And these aren't your basic English country flies where if you lightly brush them away they tip their hat and leave contented to have been a minor nuisance. Oh no, these bastards fly at your face...over and over again. Then when they're bored of that they go for your eyes. And they will not leave you alone. We stayed about 10 minutes, bearing in mind it's a 45 minute drive from where we live. Nope, sod this, we're heading back. But the little bastards were everywhere. Not sure if the Ozzies have some sort of cream they put on because none of them seemed to even notice. Oh, and apparently it gets worse the hotter it gets. Wonderful.
Oh yeah and I had this haircut at the mall up the road. I go in and I'm confronted by this enormous humpty-dumpty girl with bad skin, sporting a black sun hat. Yes she wore a hat whilst cutting my hair. Alarm bells should have rung but I think someone must have cut the cord because I heard nothing. When she finished I put my glasses on and gasped, holding my hand in front of my face, tears welling in my eyes. It was like she'd taken a chainsaw to my head, got bored and thought 'sod it, I’ve spent enough time with this prick.' Worst...haircut....ever. Now I need a bloody hat.
Well this has gone far too long. More adventures to follow...at some point...maybe.
Ciao
Anyway, so having had my soon-to-be-in-laws stay for a month we decided to show them all that is good about Australia and New Zealand. Having seen the Whitsundays, I thought what a jolly fine idea it might be to show them New Zealand. So we jump on a plane and hit Christchurch at one in the morning. Man, it was quiet there. Like no traffic, no nothing. Bit scary.
We hire a car and head north up the east coast to a place called Kaikoura. Now there's really only one reason to come here, swim with dolphins. Yes my friends you get to get up at 0430 in the morning, drive to a shack, yank on a scandalously tight wetsuit and jump on a boat where they try to locate the bastards in a bay about the size of the Caspian Sea. Nice. So we don our wetsuits and, unable to breathe, head into a dark briefing room where we're shown a video presentation telling you how unlikely it is you will actually see or do anything. Now, I realise this is just about managing expectation but even so, I did have to ask myself 'If I'm not going to see any dolphins why does my bank statement say you took two hundred pounds off me. Screwed over once again. A-holes.
So after the thoroughly depressing briefing, a back door opens and we are herded on to buses. I remind you it's now 0600 and the South Island has the same climate as England so at that time, do you know how cold it was? Yes exactly.
We transfer on to this boat and go dolphin hunting. The captain says look out for them jumping or somersaulting (or hiding in the shadows, smoking crack and laughing at the silly western tourists). I can't see anything because my eyes are glued shut with sleep.
Anyway, finally we see them and we all have to move towards the back of the boat and sit with our feet in the water. I tell you, dear readers, when my feet touched that water my bollocks shot up to my chin so fast, I didn't see them again until the following day. It was so cold I actually thought I might slip in to a coma there and then. Then the captain sounds a claxon horn in my face signalling I'm supposed to get in.
When I pushed myself into that water (shaking my heading and sobbing quietly) I quickly realised why I had not been born an Eskimo. However my snorkel seemed to be working and I could just about breathe if I focussed all my attention on it. I peered into the water. Nothing. Not a sausage. Just dark, cold murky water. Fuck. What the hell am I doing? I glance up at my dolphin -swimming colleagues who have all swam away humming and singing.
See, they tell you in the briefing that you have to entertain the dolphins so they're curious and swim up to you. I do this, I'm told, by singing and humming and swimming in a 'dolphin-like' way or generally looking like a bellend. Okay, if it's a bellend they want, I can oblige. So I start humming and messing about and sure enough, out of the gloomy darkness two shapes fly into view. Dusky dolphins. They swim around me; I have to spin to keep up. They swim under me and disappear back into darkness. Wow, this making a penis of myself really does work. I try it again. Another finds me, I spend about a minute making eye contact with it whilst changing my tone and pace of my humming. I can see by the dolphin's expression, I can see he's thinking 'Look at you in your stupid flippers. That wet suit looks a bit snug. Look how fast I can swim, come on...catch me you lazy bastard.' Then he buggers off.
This goes on and on, more and more dolphins. Gotta say, it was pretty special. We were in the water for about 45 minutes and I barely noticed it.
The rest of New Zealand in 8 sentences.
After that we drive further north to the Marlborough wine region. Very nice, although New Zealand really only makes decent white wine which I confess I'm not a big fan of but hell, alcohol is alcohol isn't it?
Then we drive up to Marlborough Sounds where we board a mail boat for a little trip on the water. Very pretty, blah blah.
Next, it's over to Nelson for some stunning walking along the coast, very nice, recommended.
After that we head over to Westport, New Zeland's industrial shithole...however the road down the west coast is pretty spectacular so did a bit of that.
Then Arthur's Pass, a staggering drive through the mountains. Holy crap, I think my mouth was open most of the way through that which the sandflies loved.
Once we returned to Australia we had a couple of days before Alison's parents left, so we take them up to Palm Beach (where they shoot Home & Away). It's 35 degrees, cloudy and so humid I started to wish I'd put deodorant on my balls.
We arrive, get out of the car and are confronted with something about Australia I'd heard about but never properly experienced before today. Flies. Hundreds of them. And these aren't your basic English country flies where if you lightly brush them away they tip their hat and leave contented to have been a minor nuisance. Oh no, these bastards fly at your face...over and over again. Then when they're bored of that they go for your eyes. And they will not leave you alone. We stayed about 10 minutes, bearing in mind it's a 45 minute drive from where we live. Nope, sod this, we're heading back. But the little bastards were everywhere. Not sure if the Ozzies have some sort of cream they put on because none of them seemed to even notice. Oh, and apparently it gets worse the hotter it gets. Wonderful.
Oh yeah and I had this haircut at the mall up the road. I go in and I'm confronted by this enormous humpty-dumpty girl with bad skin, sporting a black sun hat. Yes she wore a hat whilst cutting my hair. Alarm bells should have rung but I think someone must have cut the cord because I heard nothing. When she finished I put my glasses on and gasped, holding my hand in front of my face, tears welling in my eyes. It was like she'd taken a chainsaw to my head, got bored and thought 'sod it, I’ve spent enough time with this prick.' Worst...haircut....ever. Now I need a bloody hat.
Well this has gone far too long. More adventures to follow...at some point...maybe.
Ciao
Sunday, October 19, 2008
LANDMINES, SHARKS AND SEMI-COMPLETED NOVELS
So it’s been a while since my last blog entry, mainly because I’ve been lazy and the days I could have been blogging I was actually on the beach, don’t roll your eyes, you would have done the same.
So what’s been happening Dan? How’s that building work next door? I take it they’ve finally stopped so you can get a good night’s sleep? Well actually no. Our neighbours who I refer to as Adolf and Eva are STILL bulldozing their house, in fact I reckon whatever it is they’re doing in there it would have been quicker to just bulldoze the place and start again from scratch.
We’ve had sharks at Manly beach which was all very exciting when Alison called me up to tell me. So being the dumbarse that I am, I figure I could run down there and check it out. Well I ran, for fifteen minutes straight at almost full pelt. Did I see the shark? Well yes...on the news that night. But having run all the way down there all I saw was firstly, no one in the water, no surprise there and one lifeboat going up and down the beach. Hardly Jaws. I was hoping to see an outstretched arm buried in the sand or a dodgy looking sailor with one leg saying things like ‘we’re going to need a bigger boat.’ Nothing. There’s 15 minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Nevermind.
What else, oh yeah I finished the first draft of my novel. No I won’t tell you what it’s about cos I’m superstitious and slightly anally retentive but it’s 77,000 words and now I’ve put it in a corner to ferment for a bit so I can come at it clean, so to speak.
Oh yeah, my tenant who does some sort of mysterious consulting work for the MOD in warzones has managed to step on a land mine in Afghanistan. Or he was playing Frisbee with it or something and has got himself hospitalized. So the rent, which was never really paid on the due date at the best of times, is now doubly late. Only I could find a tenant who likes to play with roadside explosives as a hobby. Typical.
Various people have come to visit out here which is interesting, as our place is the size of a small ironing board cupboard and you can just about fit four people in if everyone stands holding their breath. Alison’s parents are here at the mo, so we went up to the Whitsundays for her 30th, hired a seaplane and checked out the Great Barrier Reef which looked...great!
Then we had a little 3 day cruise around the various islands. Now the problem with cruises is, like a box of chocolates, that you never know what kind of people you’re going to get. This boat was very pleasant, expensive and for the more well-to-do. So what kind of passengers do you think we’d get? I’m timing you? Did someone shout out Commies? No. We got middle aged English people who were consistently the dullest human beings I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. Seriously, I think I had more in common with Alison’s left slipper. At least you can call it names and it won’t retort with anecdotes about sailing around Greek Islands. Man these guys were boring. One kept talking about all the cruises he’d been on, another was talking about...well I’m not really sure because he was French. Frankly I couldn’t wait to get in the water, not just to see all the pretty fishes, mainly so I could have 5 minutes of listening to nothing but the screams of my co-passengers as they were repeatedly stung by the resident Box Jellyfish.
Went to Melbourne for a few days which was nice but frankly I can’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s a nice city and has a lot going for it but as far as I’m concerned - no beaches, no fun. Yes okay, it’s got trams and museums and a bit more culture but that’s no good when it’s thirty three in the shade, is it?
Also tried our hand at a bit of whale watching. Four hours of sitting on a boat watching waves the size of small buildings and Alison running to the bathroom every five minutes being violently sick. My mum and her friend who accompanied us on that journey to Hades and back haven’t quite forgiven me. I think the theory was better than the reality on that one. How many whales do you think we saw? I’ll give you a clue, it’s between 0 and 0.
Told the BBC we’re coming back which, no doubt, they were euphoric about. We fly in to London on the 7th Jan and will be back in work sometime after the 16th Jan. There’s a date for your diaries, I’m expecting tickertape and pineapple on sticks.
Can’t believe it’s October already, seriously where did this year go? Anyway, I’m running out of things to say and you’re running out of will to live. We’re heading off to New Zealand for a few days next week so I’m sure you’ll all be tuning in to hear how I got munched by malevolent dolphins or carjacked by a bunch of unruly caravaners. I’m getting in to my writing now; see all the new words I’m using.
Till next time, take care of yourselves...and each other.
So what’s been happening Dan? How’s that building work next door? I take it they’ve finally stopped so you can get a good night’s sleep? Well actually no. Our neighbours who I refer to as Adolf and Eva are STILL bulldozing their house, in fact I reckon whatever it is they’re doing in there it would have been quicker to just bulldoze the place and start again from scratch.
We’ve had sharks at Manly beach which was all very exciting when Alison called me up to tell me. So being the dumbarse that I am, I figure I could run down there and check it out. Well I ran, for fifteen minutes straight at almost full pelt. Did I see the shark? Well yes...on the news that night. But having run all the way down there all I saw was firstly, no one in the water, no surprise there and one lifeboat going up and down the beach. Hardly Jaws. I was hoping to see an outstretched arm buried in the sand or a dodgy looking sailor with one leg saying things like ‘we’re going to need a bigger boat.’ Nothing. There’s 15 minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Nevermind.
What else, oh yeah I finished the first draft of my novel. No I won’t tell you what it’s about cos I’m superstitious and slightly anally retentive but it’s 77,000 words and now I’ve put it in a corner to ferment for a bit so I can come at it clean, so to speak.
Oh yeah, my tenant who does some sort of mysterious consulting work for the MOD in warzones has managed to step on a land mine in Afghanistan. Or he was playing Frisbee with it or something and has got himself hospitalized. So the rent, which was never really paid on the due date at the best of times, is now doubly late. Only I could find a tenant who likes to play with roadside explosives as a hobby. Typical.
Various people have come to visit out here which is interesting, as our place is the size of a small ironing board cupboard and you can just about fit four people in if everyone stands holding their breath. Alison’s parents are here at the mo, so we went up to the Whitsundays for her 30th, hired a seaplane and checked out the Great Barrier Reef which looked...great!
Then we had a little 3 day cruise around the various islands. Now the problem with cruises is, like a box of chocolates, that you never know what kind of people you’re going to get. This boat was very pleasant, expensive and for the more well-to-do. So what kind of passengers do you think we’d get? I’m timing you? Did someone shout out Commies? No. We got middle aged English people who were consistently the dullest human beings I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. Seriously, I think I had more in common with Alison’s left slipper. At least you can call it names and it won’t retort with anecdotes about sailing around Greek Islands. Man these guys were boring. One kept talking about all the cruises he’d been on, another was talking about...well I’m not really sure because he was French. Frankly I couldn’t wait to get in the water, not just to see all the pretty fishes, mainly so I could have 5 minutes of listening to nothing but the screams of my co-passengers as they were repeatedly stung by the resident Box Jellyfish.
Went to Melbourne for a few days which was nice but frankly I can’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s a nice city and has a lot going for it but as far as I’m concerned - no beaches, no fun. Yes okay, it’s got trams and museums and a bit more culture but that’s no good when it’s thirty three in the shade, is it?
Also tried our hand at a bit of whale watching. Four hours of sitting on a boat watching waves the size of small buildings and Alison running to the bathroom every five minutes being violently sick. My mum and her friend who accompanied us on that journey to Hades and back haven’t quite forgiven me. I think the theory was better than the reality on that one. How many whales do you think we saw? I’ll give you a clue, it’s between 0 and 0.
Told the BBC we’re coming back which, no doubt, they were euphoric about. We fly in to London on the 7th Jan and will be back in work sometime after the 16th Jan. There’s a date for your diaries, I’m expecting tickertape and pineapple on sticks.
Can’t believe it’s October already, seriously where did this year go? Anyway, I’m running out of things to say and you’re running out of will to live. We’re heading off to New Zealand for a few days next week so I’m sure you’ll all be tuning in to hear how I got munched by malevolent dolphins or carjacked by a bunch of unruly caravaners. I’m getting in to my writing now; see all the new words I’m using.
Till next time, take care of yourselves...and each other.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
WORKMEN, KOALAS AND RELIGIOUS VIGILANTES
It's been raining in Sydney. Storms, hail, thunder, lightning, dogs, cats, panda’s. You name it, we’ve had it. Our neighbours have decided to start doing some major work to their house which basically involves a skip truck reversing down the steep driveway outside our front door every day at seven in the morning. The workmen then have a chat, catch up on old times whilst leaving the engine ticking over. After maybe ten minutes they unload the empty skip and pick up the full one, then drive it away. Passed my fucking front door. It's like living in the middle of a building site. Then they start with the pneumatic drill for most of the morning followed by the occasional dumping of whatever they dug up. It makes a fantastic crashing noise. Tell you, I'm about ready to snap.
On the plus side we have been going in and out of the city on the ferry. One day last week on the way back, we were sitting outside, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky it was all good when the captain comes over the speaker. 'Ladies and gentlemen if you look directly ahead you'll see a pod of dolphins.’ He says. Of course everyone goes nuts and sure enough as we're pulling in to Manly Wharf there are about thirty dolphins swimming past us. Pretty cool. In fact I'm so excited I tell a few complete strangers about it on the way back towards our house. They're like 'Really? Dolphins?' and they start looking out to sea, by which time of course, the dolphins are long gone and they hate me.
The Pope was in town a couple of weeks ago and honestly it felt like he was here forever. All these kids with brightly coloured flags walking around the city in groups a little like spiritual vigilantes. And, get this; they all have exactly the same backpacks. Red and yellow jobbies with World Youth Day printed on them. Maybe they're Vatican issued but it's a little strange. You can be sitting in a food court in the city, eating your sandwich or drinking coffee and suddenly the place will erupt with Chile's Holy Saint of Our Mother's Choir blaring out in full song singing happy birthday to someone called Rodrigo. And you cannot get away from these guys. They're everywhere. They're on the ferry, outside parks, at the wharf, even outside my house. How they find me with their John Lennon guitars and poorly played tambourines I don’t know. Do you remember, in school, the tambourine was always given to the kid with no sense of rhythm? Well that’s these guys, and they can’t sing either.
Tell you another weird thing that happened. We were walking through Manly the other day and we get to the beach. It had been raining quite hard but the sun was coming out. You know that sky where it's pretty much black but yellow sunlight streams from part of it creating rainbows and crap. Well that was what was going on here. Except as we looked out to sea at the forming rainbow we saw a funnel of a tornado, in the middle of a rainbow! The twister hit the ocean surface and started whipping it up. It was the weirdest thing and yet somehow quite beautiful.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. Dan's gone soft. I thought this was supposed to be a funny blog. When's it get funny? Huh? Say something witty, funnyman. Hurry up!
I don't know if it's just me but when the birds sing here it sounds like someone's being strangled. It's not like at home where they tweet, shut up then tweet again. These things moan about their breakfast, play some cards and then have a good laugh about it in the tree. I swear it feels like I'm in the middle of the Amazon sometimes.
Went to a koala sanctuary the other day. Those dudes are about the cutest things I've ever seen and in this place you can pet them and give them leaves and crap. Of course I end up next to this woman who listens in to my conversation with Alison. Here's a sample
Alison: (overhearing someone calling the koala a bear) Oh, is it a bear.
Me: Yes, it's a bear.
Alison: Really? You don't think of them as bears.
Annoying woman next to me: Actually it's not a bear, koalas are marsupials I don't know why everyone calls them bears. They're not bears.
Me: Shut the hell up.
Okay that last part was me getting carried away, I didn't say that but like Jesus lady, go bore someone else with your abnormal knowledge of koalas.
I've been feeling a little homesick recently as well. Hadn’t really hit me until recently. I don't know, just miss being able to go down the pub or grab lunch with friends I don't have to try with. It's been a little over six months since we left and I guess when you're travelling and doing loads of things you're distracted and don't think about it but maybe since we've stopped and since all the issues we have had with accommodation and money, I don't know. I kinda miss you guys.
Jesus, is he ever going to start saying funny crap? I didn't subscribe to this for a bunch of whiney, depressing crap. I get enough of that at home. Come on Dan, pull your finger out and start being funny or I'm just going to stop reading, mid sentence. Oh...where'd he go?
On the plus side we have been going in and out of the city on the ferry. One day last week on the way back, we were sitting outside, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky it was all good when the captain comes over the speaker. 'Ladies and gentlemen if you look directly ahead you'll see a pod of dolphins.’ He says. Of course everyone goes nuts and sure enough as we're pulling in to Manly Wharf there are about thirty dolphins swimming past us. Pretty cool. In fact I'm so excited I tell a few complete strangers about it on the way back towards our house. They're like 'Really? Dolphins?' and they start looking out to sea, by which time of course, the dolphins are long gone and they hate me.
The Pope was in town a couple of weeks ago and honestly it felt like he was here forever. All these kids with brightly coloured flags walking around the city in groups a little like spiritual vigilantes. And, get this; they all have exactly the same backpacks. Red and yellow jobbies with World Youth Day printed on them. Maybe they're Vatican issued but it's a little strange. You can be sitting in a food court in the city, eating your sandwich or drinking coffee and suddenly the place will erupt with Chile's Holy Saint of Our Mother's Choir blaring out in full song singing happy birthday to someone called Rodrigo. And you cannot get away from these guys. They're everywhere. They're on the ferry, outside parks, at the wharf, even outside my house. How they find me with their John Lennon guitars and poorly played tambourines I don’t know. Do you remember, in school, the tambourine was always given to the kid with no sense of rhythm? Well that’s these guys, and they can’t sing either.
Tell you another weird thing that happened. We were walking through Manly the other day and we get to the beach. It had been raining quite hard but the sun was coming out. You know that sky where it's pretty much black but yellow sunlight streams from part of it creating rainbows and crap. Well that was what was going on here. Except as we looked out to sea at the forming rainbow we saw a funnel of a tornado, in the middle of a rainbow! The twister hit the ocean surface and started whipping it up. It was the weirdest thing and yet somehow quite beautiful.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. Dan's gone soft. I thought this was supposed to be a funny blog. When's it get funny? Huh? Say something witty, funnyman. Hurry up!
I don't know if it's just me but when the birds sing here it sounds like someone's being strangled. It's not like at home where they tweet, shut up then tweet again. These things moan about their breakfast, play some cards and then have a good laugh about it in the tree. I swear it feels like I'm in the middle of the Amazon sometimes.
Went to a koala sanctuary the other day. Those dudes are about the cutest things I've ever seen and in this place you can pet them and give them leaves and crap. Of course I end up next to this woman who listens in to my conversation with Alison. Here's a sample
Alison: (overhearing someone calling the koala a bear) Oh, is it a bear.
Me: Yes, it's a bear.
Alison: Really? You don't think of them as bears.
Annoying woman next to me: Actually it's not a bear, koalas are marsupials I don't know why everyone calls them bears. They're not bears.
Me: Shut the hell up.
Okay that last part was me getting carried away, I didn't say that but like Jesus lady, go bore someone else with your abnormal knowledge of koalas.
I've been feeling a little homesick recently as well. Hadn’t really hit me until recently. I don't know, just miss being able to go down the pub or grab lunch with friends I don't have to try with. It's been a little over six months since we left and I guess when you're travelling and doing loads of things you're distracted and don't think about it but maybe since we've stopped and since all the issues we have had with accommodation and money, I don't know. I kinda miss you guys.
Jesus, is he ever going to start saying funny crap? I didn't subscribe to this for a bunch of whiney, depressing crap. I get enough of that at home. Come on Dan, pull your finger out and start being funny or I'm just going to stop reading, mid sentence. Oh...where'd he go?
Friday, July 11, 2008
HOME AND AWAY, BILLS AND FRAGGLES
Well looky what we have here. Dan's got a new blog out. He said he was stopping, that guy is such a lying a-hole. I know he wrote that last one but he said he probably wouldn't be writing another for a while. Right, never believe a word this guy says, I think that's the moral of the story. Well I might think about reading it if it's short. We can't all be messing about on beaches every day, some of us actually have proper jobs.
Yeah so, it's a few days before we move out and I get an email from the people who own the house. They say they've received a $500 internet bill! What the...? Turns out, because they use this 3G wireless thing to connect to the internet it costs more...a lot more. And you know what else, the phone company bill you for just being connected to the damn thing. Isn't that just the biggest kicker you ever heard? Well maybe not for you, but for us it was devastating. We'd been going off shopping and for walks along the beach with the bloody thing connected. No one told me, no one explained any of this. UGH! What the hell else can go wrong here? First we lose our free accommodation, now this. We were once again plunged in to fits of depression. When will this end, how many more nasty surprises? Anyway, we pull ourselves together and just get over it. It's only money isn't it?
Strangely, ten minutes after reading the $500 email, Alison gets a call from the extras agency she signed up to saying they need her to be an extra on some Ozzy police drama called The Cut. They ask her if she knows any guys that might be able to come along at short notice...she says she does and volunteers me! Cheers fiancée! I have to say extra work isn't something I particularly saw myself doing at age thirty but what the hell, we need the money and it might be fun. Turns out we get paid to go to a beach just south of Bondi and watch half-naked girls playing volleyball! I know, it's an utter travesty.
We were asked to be part of the crowd cheering for the Australian volleyball team. So I get changed into my swimming shorts and t-shirt. As I’m walking towards the set, one of the wardrobe girls pulls me aside and says 'I think I can use you for something else, follow me.' Uhh okay. So I wander over to another trailer and she gets me to put on a suit. I am then escorted over to this volleyball court they've constructed and told to sit in the 'V.I.P.' area. I crack a couple of funnies to the guys sitting beside me. It's about twenty minutes later I realise that the two people next to me are the lead characters and they are filming the scene right here. GET IN THERE. So I got a starring role in the show which I'm sure I'll never see but weird how that all worked out. Ironically, the money we got from that job pretty much paid for the internet bill.
Moving day comes and we need to pack up all of our stuff and move to the flat in Manly. Now, I know what you're thinking. What stuff? You had one backpack, what the hell is there to pack? Well this is true but we have bought a couple of things since we got here. Like books and magazines for Alison, some extra t-shirts for me, a pet Kangeroo who I affectionately called Joey... We actually had to make two trips...oooo I hear you say, two trips. Look, if you're going to be sarcastic I'm not going to carry on, okay?
So the place we'd found to live in is perfect. It's cosy, the bedroom is also the kitchen which also triples as the living room but it's all nice. I did a little video on Facebook for those of you who really have nothing better to do. The lady who owns it has left all her pots and pans and sheets and things. She also left this bright neon blue, furry blanket on the bed. I swear it looks like they took a large, blue Fraggle, squashed him then rolled him out as far as he’d go and sold him off as a bed throw. Now I take animal rights pretty seriously and I think killing Fraggles is frankly not on, but it does get a bit chilly at night so I'll keep it to myself for now.
Alison got another call from the extras agency last weekend asking her to be in Home and Away. Rock on! So we drive about half an hour up the road, where they're shooting it. She has to be a caterer serving food to people at some posh house. I went to pick her up and saw the whole cast walking towards the trailers to get changed and I have to say I don't recognise one of them. At least with Neighbours they've still got Lou and Harold, but that's shot in Melbourne and I’ll be damned if I’m driving all the way out there for one job. No, I don’t care if Libby asked for me personally. With all this extra work Alison thinks it's a good idea that I sign up as well. I have to say, I'm dubious but what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound.
In the midst of all this we have also booked our wedding venue for May next year. Ooo I hear you all cry. Yeah it's this stunning castle thing outside Barcelona. Alison's had it on her favourites for about a year. We're starting to plan the wedding now and I gotta say, it's more complicated than I thought. I'm looking forward to swimming in the infinity pool and tasting the Cava they make on the property. Yes, did I mention it has 300 acres of vineyards...nice!
Well, I guess that's about all that's fit to print. See, that wasn't so bad was it? Relatively short and painless. Where have I heard that before?
Yeah so, it's a few days before we move out and I get an email from the people who own the house. They say they've received a $500 internet bill! What the...? Turns out, because they use this 3G wireless thing to connect to the internet it costs more...a lot more. And you know what else, the phone company bill you for just being connected to the damn thing. Isn't that just the biggest kicker you ever heard? Well maybe not for you, but for us it was devastating. We'd been going off shopping and for walks along the beach with the bloody thing connected. No one told me, no one explained any of this. UGH! What the hell else can go wrong here? First we lose our free accommodation, now this. We were once again plunged in to fits of depression. When will this end, how many more nasty surprises? Anyway, we pull ourselves together and just get over it. It's only money isn't it?
Strangely, ten minutes after reading the $500 email, Alison gets a call from the extras agency she signed up to saying they need her to be an extra on some Ozzy police drama called The Cut. They ask her if she knows any guys that might be able to come along at short notice...she says she does and volunteers me! Cheers fiancée! I have to say extra work isn't something I particularly saw myself doing at age thirty but what the hell, we need the money and it might be fun. Turns out we get paid to go to a beach just south of Bondi and watch half-naked girls playing volleyball! I know, it's an utter travesty.
We were asked to be part of the crowd cheering for the Australian volleyball team. So I get changed into my swimming shorts and t-shirt. As I’m walking towards the set, one of the wardrobe girls pulls me aside and says 'I think I can use you for something else, follow me.' Uhh okay. So I wander over to another trailer and she gets me to put on a suit. I am then escorted over to this volleyball court they've constructed and told to sit in the 'V.I.P.' area. I crack a couple of funnies to the guys sitting beside me. It's about twenty minutes later I realise that the two people next to me are the lead characters and they are filming the scene right here. GET IN THERE. So I got a starring role in the show which I'm sure I'll never see but weird how that all worked out. Ironically, the money we got from that job pretty much paid for the internet bill.
Moving day comes and we need to pack up all of our stuff and move to the flat in Manly. Now, I know what you're thinking. What stuff? You had one backpack, what the hell is there to pack? Well this is true but we have bought a couple of things since we got here. Like books and magazines for Alison, some extra t-shirts for me, a pet Kangeroo who I affectionately called Joey... We actually had to make two trips...oooo I hear you say, two trips. Look, if you're going to be sarcastic I'm not going to carry on, okay?
So the place we'd found to live in is perfect. It's cosy, the bedroom is also the kitchen which also triples as the living room but it's all nice. I did a little video on Facebook for those of you who really have nothing better to do. The lady who owns it has left all her pots and pans and sheets and things. She also left this bright neon blue, furry blanket on the bed. I swear it looks like they took a large, blue Fraggle, squashed him then rolled him out as far as he’d go and sold him off as a bed throw. Now I take animal rights pretty seriously and I think killing Fraggles is frankly not on, but it does get a bit chilly at night so I'll keep it to myself for now.
Alison got another call from the extras agency last weekend asking her to be in Home and Away. Rock on! So we drive about half an hour up the road, where they're shooting it. She has to be a caterer serving food to people at some posh house. I went to pick her up and saw the whole cast walking towards the trailers to get changed and I have to say I don't recognise one of them. At least with Neighbours they've still got Lou and Harold, but that's shot in Melbourne and I’ll be damned if I’m driving all the way out there for one job. No, I don’t care if Libby asked for me personally. With all this extra work Alison thinks it's a good idea that I sign up as well. I have to say, I'm dubious but what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound.
In the midst of all this we have also booked our wedding venue for May next year. Ooo I hear you all cry. Yeah it's this stunning castle thing outside Barcelona. Alison's had it on her favourites for about a year. We're starting to plan the wedding now and I gotta say, it's more complicated than I thought. I'm looking forward to swimming in the infinity pool and tasting the Cava they make on the property. Yes, did I mention it has 300 acres of vineyards...nice!
Well, I guess that's about all that's fit to print. See, that wasn't so bad was it? Relatively short and painless. Where have I heard that before?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)