I'm cold. So very, very cold. This is perhaps unsurprising as I'm back in the UK where it is currently Autumn. It was Bob's thirtieth last Friday. Having succesfully wrangled a visa he will be remaining in the antipodes for the forseeable, which came as a massive relief to him as the thought of returning home came across as appealing as a bucket of cold sick. According to the grapevine he has nothing but luck since I left, which lends credence to the oft floated theory that I am in some way jinxed or cursed (I really wish I hadn't peed on that gypsy woman all those years ago). The other day I received a birthday request from the man himself for another blog post, to act as a sort of conclusion to my previous witless ramblings, hence why I am now putting fingers to keyboard for the first time in over a month.
The plane ride back took even longer than anticipated due to bad weather over London (I know. Who'd of thunk it?). I was again flying with China Airlines and again I really cannot say I was that impressed with them. However, I did make aeroplane fwends with a Swedish girl called Magda which helped alleviate the tedium somewhat. The first week or so was spent catching up with friends and family. Got to see our Rosie's flat, help our Alice move into her new house and finally met little Ethan, my cousin Lindsey's new born. I also visited my mam. She's still dead, but other than that, she's fine.
Following that initial flurry of activity I have settled into a bit of a routine. I get up, send out around half a dozen job applications, work on either my writing or drawing, do some exercise and then just potter round for the rest of the day. It's not an especially bad mode of existence, but I'm feeling somewhat understimulated and I am very aware of the very real possibility of slipping into bad habits. My younger brother Josh - unemployed for the past year, days spent watching YouTube videos of strange men eating sticks of deodorant, his get up and go having got up and gone - acts as a sort of Jacob Marley figure, warning me to take heed of the dangers of slipping into sloth and apathy. Unfortunately with the economy being on its arse at the minute, I may well be living like this a while yet.
Do I miss Australia? Of course I do. As I've written before, it's a great place and I genuinely regret that I didn't see more of it. I also miss meeting new people and making new friends (though what I don't miss is striking up a friendship with someone and then them moving on a few days later, something I found to be an utter ball ache). That said, by the time I left I was ready to come back, I was becoming conscious that I was missing key moments in the lives of my loved ones and was finding it harder to ignore the desire to have a place I could call my own. Plus else the possibility of two drunk people loudly fucking in my room has now dropped to zero percent*, which is nice.
As mentioned earlier, it was Bob's birthday on the 5th, which meant that it was mine the day after. It was my thirtieth, which I'm told, being a round number and that, has a much greater signifigance than, say, my twenty sixth. Had a much quieter one than last year, which involved me being borderline sexually assaulted by a transvestite, denied entry to a bar as I'd had more than a thimbleful of booze prior to my arrival and then being lectured by a hobo about how it was the fault of the blacks and the gays or possibly just the gay blacks. When I was younger I used to dread birthdays and would be in a foul mood in the days before and after them. Generally speaking I've made my peace with them now. My main objection was that I felt that I hadn't done enough with my life and that it was just plain rude that time kept plodding forward despite the fact that I hadn't yet had the Great British Novel published, been wooed by a green skinned space babe from the planet Sex or flown to the moon. I still haven't done any of those things, but I've had many more limited, but no less worthwhile experiences, not least of which is the last year I've spent travelling around a foreign country with one of me best mates. It does occur that I'm entering my third decade with no job, no romantic prospects and no home. But these are things that are easily resolved, once I've got a bit of traction. Currently working on a few things that'll hopefully see the light of day sometime next year, though I can't imagine that I'll be updating this blog again as it's now served its purpose. Thank you for reading and take care of yourself. I'm off for a pint.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
* That is, unless we're being literal and assume that one of the drunk people could be me. Then there's about a 0.015 chance of it happening.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Davey Denton Went to Sea, Silver Buckles on His Knee
All things must come to an end. I've come full circle and am currently sat in the Blue Parrot waiting for the shuttle bus to the airport.
With time running out, we've tried to fit in as much as possible in the time remaining. First stop after Byron Bay was the rather twee sounding Rainbow Beach and from there Fraser Island which - the literature tells me - is the largest sand island in the world. The guide was pretty useless if truth be told, grunting inaudibly, gesturing vaguely towards some dunes and then wandering off to sit by himself. Luckily everybody else in the tour group was really canny and met some really nice people. Of course, we had to pull together in order to combat the ever present threat of the dingo packs that live there. At one point I left the group to make use of the local amenities (Fraser Island being almost completely undeveloped it's advisable to take advantage of public loos and the like on the rare occasion that you come across them). Preoccupied as I was with my bladder I very, very nearly walked straight into a dingo which was idling on the path. There was a second of disconnect as it was kind of hard to reconcile the rather handsome dog in front of me with the very real danger these things can be. Thankfully it didn't seem particularly interested on eating my face and was content to let me shuffle off in the opposite direction. The island itself is very pretty and well worth seeing. True to form the second I tried to take a photo of something my camera lens jammed with sand and is now unusable.
After that we took the overnight bus up to Airlie Beach and then took a yacht out to the Whitsundays. For almost as long as I've known him, Bob has been going on about how he would love to own a boat, so this was a real high light for him. We weren't just sat there either, but were expected to participate in the hoisting, grinding, tying etc (I can now confirm that pulling up a 450kg sail is hard work. Who knew?). On the last day the weather turned and became blustery and choppy meaning that we pelted back to port, spray in our faces and the ship at a 75 degree tilt. Fantastic stuff, although because I can't resist the obvious reference, I did have the below song running through my head the entire time:
When we weren't boating around on the boat with all the boat people we were diving and snorkeling the great barrier reef (Well, I did. Because Bob had asthma as a child they wouldn't let him dive, which understandably narked him a bit). In the end I didn't punch a turtle. I was going to, I really was. While snorkeling I came across one asleep on the ocean floor. However my fists of fury were stayed by the fact that they are some of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. Plus they eat jellyfish, which I both hate and fear. So I left it be and instead paddled off to taunt some clown fish.
Was rather surprised when we returned to the Blue Parrot to find that there were people here that we actually know. I was also slightly surprised to find Ollie here, the lad who took over my job at DealBoard, and find that he'd quit after four weeks as he thought that the job was all kinds of bullshit. This was slightly gratifying as I did wonder if I was being slightly precious about the whole thing. Being back in Sydney meant that we were also able to meet up with Erin and Tia again, which I'm really glad for. There was also a guy named Jim there. I've not met him before, but he seemed canny.
There is, of course, a sadness in leaving, but there's a joy in returning home. Goodbye Australia. You are a beautiful country, filled with many beautiful people. I've had some hard times here, but they've been tempered by the good times, which will provide me with happy memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Your telly's a bit crap though.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
With time running out, we've tried to fit in as much as possible in the time remaining. First stop after Byron Bay was the rather twee sounding Rainbow Beach and from there Fraser Island which - the literature tells me - is the largest sand island in the world. The guide was pretty useless if truth be told, grunting inaudibly, gesturing vaguely towards some dunes and then wandering off to sit by himself. Luckily everybody else in the tour group was really canny and met some really nice people. Of course, we had to pull together in order to combat the ever present threat of the dingo packs that live there. At one point I left the group to make use of the local amenities (Fraser Island being almost completely undeveloped it's advisable to take advantage of public loos and the like on the rare occasion that you come across them). Preoccupied as I was with my bladder I very, very nearly walked straight into a dingo which was idling on the path. There was a second of disconnect as it was kind of hard to reconcile the rather handsome dog in front of me with the very real danger these things can be. Thankfully it didn't seem particularly interested on eating my face and was content to let me shuffle off in the opposite direction. The island itself is very pretty and well worth seeing. True to form the second I tried to take a photo of something my camera lens jammed with sand and is now unusable.
After that we took the overnight bus up to Airlie Beach and then took a yacht out to the Whitsundays. For almost as long as I've known him, Bob has been going on about how he would love to own a boat, so this was a real high light for him. We weren't just sat there either, but were expected to participate in the hoisting, grinding, tying etc (I can now confirm that pulling up a 450kg sail is hard work. Who knew?). On the last day the weather turned and became blustery and choppy meaning that we pelted back to port, spray in our faces and the ship at a 75 degree tilt. Fantastic stuff, although because I can't resist the obvious reference, I did have the below song running through my head the entire time:
When we weren't boating around on the boat with all the boat people we were diving and snorkeling the great barrier reef (Well, I did. Because Bob had asthma as a child they wouldn't let him dive, which understandably narked him a bit). In the end I didn't punch a turtle. I was going to, I really was. While snorkeling I came across one asleep on the ocean floor. However my fists of fury were stayed by the fact that they are some of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. Plus they eat jellyfish, which I both hate and fear. So I left it be and instead paddled off to taunt some clown fish.
Was rather surprised when we returned to the Blue Parrot to find that there were people here that we actually know. I was also slightly surprised to find Ollie here, the lad who took over my job at DealBoard, and find that he'd quit after four weeks as he thought that the job was all kinds of bullshit. This was slightly gratifying as I did wonder if I was being slightly precious about the whole thing. Being back in Sydney meant that we were also able to meet up with Erin and Tia again, which I'm really glad for. There was also a guy named Jim there. I've not met him before, but he seemed canny.
There is, of course, a sadness in leaving, but there's a joy in returning home. Goodbye Australia. You are a beautiful country, filled with many beautiful people. I've had some hard times here, but they've been tempered by the good times, which will provide me with happy memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Your telly's a bit crap though.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Wish You Were Here
I'm now approaching the end of my journey. Two weeks from now I'll be sat on a plane, watching reruns of Friends and wishing murder on the screaming baby two rows in front of me.
However I'm still here for the moment and hope to make the most of my time here. This has been greatly facilitated by the return of my travelling companion Sir Robert of Walker who apparently had a whale of a time sticking fence posts in the ground around Griffith.
I enjoyed the Byron Bay writers festival, although as I'm still waiting for my tax refund I could only afford to attend one day. Although I hadn't heard of any of the panelists or their work, the talks were lively and interesting. The festival site also had sculptures scattered around and was sited on one of the prettiest beaches I've seen in my life.
Beyond that I've mainly been exploring the town and enjoying the sunshine. It must be said that if you're going to be kicking your heels and doing very little, there can't be many worse places to do this than Byron Bay. It really is a beautiful part of the world. I went for a run up to the lighthouse the other day. As I wheezed up the hill I glanced to my right and slowed to a stop. The ocean was alive with hundreds of dolphins dicking around, doing there dolphin things. Two whales also swam past, side by side, presumably dee in whale conversation (which is just like normal conversation, except its reeeeaaaalllllyyyyyy sssslllllloooooooooooow).
This indolence isn't going to last.. We're off to Fraser Island via Rainbow Beach tomorrow, where we will camp under the stars and drink the cheapest, nastiest wine that can be found. Then it's on up to the Whitsundays, where Bob can live out his long standing fantasy of working on a boat and I can live out my long standing fantasy of punching a sea turtle in the face.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
However I'm still here for the moment and hope to make the most of my time here. This has been greatly facilitated by the return of my travelling companion Sir Robert of Walker who apparently had a whale of a time sticking fence posts in the ground around Griffith.
I enjoyed the Byron Bay writers festival, although as I'm still waiting for my tax refund I could only afford to attend one day. Although I hadn't heard of any of the panelists or their work, the talks were lively and interesting. The festival site also had sculptures scattered around and was sited on one of the prettiest beaches I've seen in my life.
Beyond that I've mainly been exploring the town and enjoying the sunshine. It must be said that if you're going to be kicking your heels and doing very little, there can't be many worse places to do this than Byron Bay. It really is a beautiful part of the world. I went for a run up to the lighthouse the other day. As I wheezed up the hill I glanced to my right and slowed to a stop. The ocean was alive with hundreds of dolphins dicking around, doing there dolphin things. Two whales also swam past, side by side, presumably dee in whale conversation (which is just like normal conversation, except its reeeeaaaalllllyyyyyy sssslllllloooooooooooow).
This indolence isn't going to last.. We're off to Fraser Island via Rainbow Beach tomorrow, where we will camp under the stars and drink the cheapest, nastiest wine that can be found. Then it's on up to the Whitsundays, where Bob can live out his long standing fantasy of working on a boat and I can live out my long standing fantasy of punching a sea turtle in the face.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Here's Looking at You Kid
Just a quick one to say congratulation to my cousin Lindsay and her husband Ian who are now celebrating the birth of their first child, a wee boy. This feels like the first news that I've recieved from the motherland that hasn't been prefaced by the words "it's probably best if your sitting down" so I am, of course, made up. I've seen pictures and the teeny tiny bugger is lovely. I'll bring him back a cuddly koala. Or possibly porn. Kids like porn.
Getting ready to leave Brisbane. Wasn't especially impressed with the place initially, but I'm gradually coming round to its charms. Unfortunately, as I'm currently skint I haven't been able to get the most out of the place and have been entertaining myself doing low cost activities such as going yo art galleries, long walks along the riverbank and chasing after pigeons. I was accosted by a drunk the other day who was under the impression yjay I was the devil - a perfectly reasonable assumption as I was wearing a red hoodie at the time. After determining that I am not, in fact, Beexlebub, he was kind enough to share with me the secret to finding peace with the universe, which was nice of him (In case your wondering, you squint at the sunset and listen to the voices in your head). In other news my camera, which broke for no apparent reason a few month ago has now fixed itself for no apparent reason. I will therefore be able to bore people with even more photos of bridges and rocks and shit.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Getting ready to leave Brisbane. Wasn't especially impressed with the place initially, but I'm gradually coming round to its charms. Unfortunately, as I'm currently skint I haven't been able to get the most out of the place and have been entertaining myself doing low cost activities such as going yo art galleries, long walks along the riverbank and chasing after pigeons. I was accosted by a drunk the other day who was under the impression yjay I was the devil - a perfectly reasonable assumption as I was wearing a red hoodie at the time. After determining that I am not, in fact, Beexlebub, he was kind enough to share with me the secret to finding peace with the universe, which was nice of him (In case your wondering, you squint at the sunset and listen to the voices in your head). In other news my camera, which broke for no apparent reason a few month ago has now fixed itself for no apparent reason. I will therefore be able to bore people with even more photos of bridges and rocks and shit.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know
Before I left England, I had in my mind a list of some of the places that I wanted to see while I was over here. One of those places was Byron Bay, which I finally staggered into late last Sunday.
Getting here was quite a mission. A wise man would have checked the journey time before booking accomodation at the other end. A wise man would have seen that, due to the rather stately speed of Australia's trains, it took thirteen hours to travel from Sydney to Casino, the nearest station. A wise man would have then booked the overnight train, leaving himself plenty of time to get to the station for departure, saving himself a nights accomodation and letting him find his hostel at the other end during daylight hours. I am not a wise man. I am a tit who almost missed his train through sleeping in and had to peg it to central station carrying a full backpack with no socks on my feet. Thirteen hours is a good while to spend on a train. I passed the time by pretending that I was on the Hogwarts Express. Then I remembered that I'm a grown man, and so instead passed the time by pretending that I was on my way to a workplace synergy conference, where I would get too drunk and end up having shameful, mutually unfulfilling sex with Margaret, the horsey faced woman from my office, before returning home to a wife I can't even stand to be in the same room as any more. Then I tried to get some sleep.
Byron itself is a very nice, attractive seaside town. It obviously makes it's money from tourists,but is nowhere near as crass as Cairns, that other stop off on the back packer trail. The beach here was voted the sexiest in the world, ahead of such big names as Bondi, Malibu and Skegness, though the overall sexiness probably dropped a few points when I waddled onto it with my shit hair and permanently running nose. I have a vague ambition to try surfing at some point, but the constant rain has put me off the idea a bit (I realise that water from the sky shouldn't really be a deterrent for an activity that involves jumping into the sea, but there you go).
The hostel I'm staying at is teaming with Goddamn Hippies. Which is fine, though I myself do not make a particularly good hippy, I suspect I'm too uptight. It's pleasant enough though and has all the amenities you could want and even some you might not, like digeridoo lessons.
In the interest of interest I took a day trip up to Nimbin. Nimbin, for those that don't know, is a small village a few miles outside of Lismore. The place was dying a slow death when students held the Aquarius Festival. Since then it's found a new lease of life as a haven for Goddamn Hippies and is Australia's unofficial weed capital. The inhabitants seem a fairly politically active bunch, but only about Marijuana legalisation. Marijuana is, of course, as illegal there as it is everywhere else in the country, but if one where inclined to partake of the herb one wouldn't find it especially hard to get hold of and I must have been approached by dealers a dozen times in the twenty minutes it took me to walk down the main street. After a little while it became slightly irritating and so ducked into the Museum of Nimbin which was cool enough, but rather appropriately slightly unfocused and rambling. Also - and I'm not sure if this is worth mentioning - but there was a lot of three legged dogs around. I counted at least three in the two hours I spent in this community of a few hundred people. By way of contrast I counted exactly zero in the six months plus I spent in the teeming metropolis of Sydney. I don't want to be casting aspersions here, but I think... *looks around to make sure no-one else is listening and drops voice*... I think the hippies might be eating them.
Tomorrow I head on up to Brisbane. The Splendor in the Grass Festival kicks off in Byron this weekend and as such there is no room at the inn. I am therefore clearing out of town for the duration of the cool alternative music festival, but shall be returning in a weeks time for the more cerebral delights of the annual writers festival. This probably says more about me than I'm willing to admit.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton.
P.S. I have received news from Bob. Having gone through weeks of negotiations with our former employes in Queensland, they have now agreed to sign him off for seven days a week he's legally entitled to as opposed to the five they originally gave us. With the additional days we worked in Tasmania this puts him a few days shy of the 88 he needs to extend his visa. Whether he's still going to fly all the way to Griffith and then fly back again a few days later remains to be seen, but it seems likely that I will be seeing him again before I leave.
Getting here was quite a mission. A wise man would have checked the journey time before booking accomodation at the other end. A wise man would have seen that, due to the rather stately speed of Australia's trains, it took thirteen hours to travel from Sydney to Casino, the nearest station. A wise man would have then booked the overnight train, leaving himself plenty of time to get to the station for departure, saving himself a nights accomodation and letting him find his hostel at the other end during daylight hours. I am not a wise man. I am a tit who almost missed his train through sleeping in and had to peg it to central station carrying a full backpack with no socks on my feet. Thirteen hours is a good while to spend on a train. I passed the time by pretending that I was on the Hogwarts Express. Then I remembered that I'm a grown man, and so instead passed the time by pretending that I was on my way to a workplace synergy conference, where I would get too drunk and end up having shameful, mutually unfulfilling sex with Margaret, the horsey faced woman from my office, before returning home to a wife I can't even stand to be in the same room as any more. Then I tried to get some sleep.
Byron itself is a very nice, attractive seaside town. It obviously makes it's money from tourists,but is nowhere near as crass as Cairns, that other stop off on the back packer trail. The beach here was voted the sexiest in the world, ahead of such big names as Bondi, Malibu and Skegness, though the overall sexiness probably dropped a few points when I waddled onto it with my shit hair and permanently running nose. I have a vague ambition to try surfing at some point, but the constant rain has put me off the idea a bit (I realise that water from the sky shouldn't really be a deterrent for an activity that involves jumping into the sea, but there you go).
The hostel I'm staying at is teaming with Goddamn Hippies. Which is fine, though I myself do not make a particularly good hippy, I suspect I'm too uptight. It's pleasant enough though and has all the amenities you could want and even some you might not, like digeridoo lessons.
In the interest of interest I took a day trip up to Nimbin. Nimbin, for those that don't know, is a small village a few miles outside of Lismore. The place was dying a slow death when students held the Aquarius Festival. Since then it's found a new lease of life as a haven for Goddamn Hippies and is Australia's unofficial weed capital. The inhabitants seem a fairly politically active bunch, but only about Marijuana legalisation. Marijuana is, of course, as illegal there as it is everywhere else in the country, but if one where inclined to partake of the herb one wouldn't find it especially hard to get hold of and I must have been approached by dealers a dozen times in the twenty minutes it took me to walk down the main street. After a little while it became slightly irritating and so ducked into the Museum of Nimbin which was cool enough, but rather appropriately slightly unfocused and rambling. Also - and I'm not sure if this is worth mentioning - but there was a lot of three legged dogs around. I counted at least three in the two hours I spent in this community of a few hundred people. By way of contrast I counted exactly zero in the six months plus I spent in the teeming metropolis of Sydney. I don't want to be casting aspersions here, but I think... *looks around to make sure no-one else is listening and drops voice*... I think the hippies might be eating them.
Tomorrow I head on up to Brisbane. The Splendor in the Grass Festival kicks off in Byron this weekend and as such there is no room at the inn. I am therefore clearing out of town for the duration of the cool alternative music festival, but shall be returning in a weeks time for the more cerebral delights of the annual writers festival. This probably says more about me than I'm willing to admit.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton.
P.S. I have received news from Bob. Having gone through weeks of negotiations with our former employes in Queensland, they have now agreed to sign him off for seven days a week he's legally entitled to as opposed to the five they originally gave us. With the additional days we worked in Tasmania this puts him a few days shy of the 88 he needs to extend his visa. Whether he's still going to fly all the way to Griffith and then fly back again a few days later remains to be seen, but it seems likely that I will be seeing him again before I leave.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Off On Me Todd
Finally I have finished at DealBoard. It's not the hardest job I've ever done, the people there were pleasant enough, but I have never been so embarrassed to have my name associated with a company. I have shaved off the penance beard that I grew during my time there and now feel able to greet the sunrise with words other than "fuck my life". In one of those things that remind you that, despite it's ludicrous size, Australia is in some ways quite a small country, my position is being taken over by Ollie - one of the Brummie lads who was staying with us at the Blue Parrot. Out of courtesy I did actually email him when I saw he was interviewing for the role, letting him know how bad the company is at what it does (how bad, you ask? * stretches arms out as far as they can go* This bad), but the guy needs the money so can't fault him for taking it.
We were out in a place called Croydon last week for Tia's birthday. Bob, who knows her better than I, was charged with present buying. He got her a sky diving trip - which is quite easily the most ostentatious thing I've bought for someone who is, essentially, a casual acquaintance. Also went out to Newtown mid week at the request of Erin, who was joined by Louisa, a girl we'd met last year, and Caitlin - a girl that Bob knows previously from Canada and who he seems to believe is his nemesis - though she showed no signs of reciprocating this antipathy.
Bob is still questing for additional farm work. At one point it looked like his work was going to put him in touch with a farmer in the hunter valley who would sign him off for the days he needed without him actually having to turn up. Unfortunately this fell through and he's going to have to get his hands dirty again. He's managed to secure a tree planting, tending gig at a place called Griffith. He's flying out there via chartered aircraft a week on Monday (cue flying doctors theme tune).
As I've only got five weeks left I won't be going with him. Instead I'm heading north tomorrow, up towards Byron Bay for a couple of days. After that, don't really know, but I suspect Brisbane for a week or so before back to Byron (assuming I like the place) for their yearly writer's festival. Bob may or may not be joining me again, depending on how soon he gets the days needed.
This is a bit of a concern in that, as I've noted previously, I can be cripplingly shy and sometimes it helps to have someone like Bob around who has verbal diarhea. Primarily though, the only real bummer, is that he's me best mate and it would have been nice to see more of the country with him by me side.
Never mind. 13 hour train journey tomorrow. I shall buy a bumper colouring book and a big pack of jellies to make the time pass quicker.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
We were out in a place called Croydon last week for Tia's birthday. Bob, who knows her better than I, was charged with present buying. He got her a sky diving trip - which is quite easily the most ostentatious thing I've bought for someone who is, essentially, a casual acquaintance. Also went out to Newtown mid week at the request of Erin, who was joined by Louisa, a girl we'd met last year, and Caitlin - a girl that Bob knows previously from Canada and who he seems to believe is his nemesis - though she showed no signs of reciprocating this antipathy.
Bob is still questing for additional farm work. At one point it looked like his work was going to put him in touch with a farmer in the hunter valley who would sign him off for the days he needed without him actually having to turn up. Unfortunately this fell through and he's going to have to get his hands dirty again. He's managed to secure a tree planting, tending gig at a place called Griffith. He's flying out there via chartered aircraft a week on Monday (cue flying doctors theme tune).
As I've only got five weeks left I won't be going with him. Instead I'm heading north tomorrow, up towards Byron Bay for a couple of days. After that, don't really know, but I suspect Brisbane for a week or so before back to Byron (assuming I like the place) for their yearly writer's festival. Bob may or may not be joining me again, depending on how soon he gets the days needed.
This is a bit of a concern in that, as I've noted previously, I can be cripplingly shy and sometimes it helps to have someone like Bob around who has verbal diarhea. Primarily though, the only real bummer, is that he's me best mate and it would have been nice to see more of the country with him by me side.
Never mind. 13 hour train journey tomorrow. I shall buy a bumper colouring book and a big pack of jellies to make the time pass quicker.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
The cold that will not die still lingers. I estimate that at this point my body is 90% snot and whatever the purpley grey stuff I've been coughing up is. I also haven't been sleeping much. One of my roomates has a mechanical monkey that only comes out at night to throw crackers at an indian guy and it keeps me awake with its incessant robot chirping.*
It's July 4th. A day when Amercans everywhere eat barbecue, drink beer and try and pretend that demanding people pay taxes was the worst thing the British Empire ever did. Of course anglo-australian relations have never really deterioated into the shooting each other in the face stage, our dfferences primarily being articulated through cricket sledging and Mel Gibson killing us in films of varying quality. As such the big thing here was the fnal day of the State of Orgin series. I was hoping for a New South Wales win, this being the state where I currently live and have spent the most time. Unfortunately Queensland won again, making this the seventh series in a row - which'd depress, except I don't have any real emotional investment.
I've handed in my resignation at my job. This was earlier than I planned, but more than one person has commented that it was making me seriously unhappy. At the end of the day got tired of being made to feel like a complete dickhead every time I answered the phone and being paid peanuts for the privelige. Luckily it's the end of the tax year here so I am, theoretically, going to receive a large(ish) wad of cash as soon as I can be boshed to fill out the appropriate forms.
Me and Bob met up with Erin down Newtown, who has just finished various exams. It was nice to see her again as we only saw her for a few minutes at Tia's tea party thingummy.
Went and saw Prometheus by wor Ridley the other day. There's potentially a very good, intelligent film there. Unfortunately it's hidden behind a slightly stupid film where earth's top scientists prod alien hell beasts to see what happens and a ripped Lord Voldemort beats up a young guy in old guy make up... because...because... *film makers shrug and distracts audience with tentacled vagina monster*
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
P.S. Happy birthday to wor fatha who patiently endured my drunken ramblings when I finally manage to ring him, and congratulations in advance to Alice, the littlest sistah, who is graduating shortly.
* I am aware that this is probably something I imagined as I lay sprawled across the border of the waking world and dreams, but part of me really hopes it wasn't
It's July 4th. A day when Amercans everywhere eat barbecue, drink beer and try and pretend that demanding people pay taxes was the worst thing the British Empire ever did. Of course anglo-australian relations have never really deterioated into the shooting each other in the face stage, our dfferences primarily being articulated through cricket sledging and Mel Gibson killing us in films of varying quality. As such the big thing here was the fnal day of the State of Orgin series. I was hoping for a New South Wales win, this being the state where I currently live and have spent the most time. Unfortunately Queensland won again, making this the seventh series in a row - which'd depress, except I don't have any real emotional investment.
I've handed in my resignation at my job. This was earlier than I planned, but more than one person has commented that it was making me seriously unhappy. At the end of the day got tired of being made to feel like a complete dickhead every time I answered the phone and being paid peanuts for the privelige. Luckily it's the end of the tax year here so I am, theoretically, going to receive a large(ish) wad of cash as soon as I can be boshed to fill out the appropriate forms.
Me and Bob met up with Erin down Newtown, who has just finished various exams. It was nice to see her again as we only saw her for a few minutes at Tia's tea party thingummy.
Went and saw Prometheus by wor Ridley the other day. There's potentially a very good, intelligent film there. Unfortunately it's hidden behind a slightly stupid film where earth's top scientists prod alien hell beasts to see what happens and a ripped Lord Voldemort beats up a young guy in old guy make up... because...because... *film makers shrug and distracts audience with tentacled vagina monster*
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
P.S. Happy birthday to wor fatha who patiently endured my drunken ramblings when I finally manage to ring him, and congratulations in advance to Alice, the littlest sistah, who is graduating shortly.
* I am aware that this is probably something I imagined as I lay sprawled across the border of the waking world and dreams, but part of me really hopes it wasn't
Friday, June 15, 2012
Stack 'Em High Sell 'Em Cheap
It's raining in Sydney and I've been full of cold longer than I care to remember.
I've managed to stick at the new job for two weeks now. Although everyone I'm working with is canny enough I can't say that I'm that impressed with the company. My job is essentially damage limitation. What the company does is source goods from overseas and sells them in Australia at a discount. All well and good. What they don't tell customers until after they've paid is that there is a 2-10 week delivery period. What they don't tell them ever is that 2-10 weeks means 10 weeks - which, because things go wrong, often stretches to 12-16 weeks. If you think that waiting a huge chunk of a year to receive a product that you paid for today, only to then find it's a cheap Chinese knock off that often doesn't work, is all kinds of bullshit then, congratulations, you're pretty much in agreement with everyone I've dealt with. Add in the fact that I've not really had any training and don't have access to a lot of the information that I need to do the job and I'm exhausted. It also transpires that one of my colleagues has been dumping part of his workload off on me, either out of laziness or crossed wires I'm not yet sure - which I'm less than happy about.
Bob, on the other hand, has been in his job a week and has received a pay rise, the jammy bastard. He now earns $235 dollars a day despite doing (his words, not mine) absolutely fuck all all day. I can't help but regret that I've never taken that much interest in the world of computers.
Paddy and John, fellow inmates from the caravan in Walkamin, have staggered broke and bleeding* into town, having had marvelous adventures in a camper van up and down the east coast. They're now living in County Bondi with approximately fifty percent of the population of the emerald isle. Went out for a few swift pints with them yesterday. Well, we had a few swift pints. They drank half the pub. They were very happy when we left them.
We're moving out of Kings Cross to a place in the city centre tomorrow. Will be glad to go. There's nothing especially wrong the place we're at, save for a very narrow kitchen and a curious profusion of Italian charvas, but for some reason my entire time here I've felt like I've been in the way.
*may be a slight exageration.
I've managed to stick at the new job for two weeks now. Although everyone I'm working with is canny enough I can't say that I'm that impressed with the company. My job is essentially damage limitation. What the company does is source goods from overseas and sells them in Australia at a discount. All well and good. What they don't tell customers until after they've paid is that there is a 2-10 week delivery period. What they don't tell them ever is that 2-10 weeks means 10 weeks - which, because things go wrong, often stretches to 12-16 weeks. If you think that waiting a huge chunk of a year to receive a product that you paid for today, only to then find it's a cheap Chinese knock off that often doesn't work, is all kinds of bullshit then, congratulations, you're pretty much in agreement with everyone I've dealt with. Add in the fact that I've not really had any training and don't have access to a lot of the information that I need to do the job and I'm exhausted. It also transpires that one of my colleagues has been dumping part of his workload off on me, either out of laziness or crossed wires I'm not yet sure - which I'm less than happy about.
Bob, on the other hand, has been in his job a week and has received a pay rise, the jammy bastard. He now earns $235 dollars a day despite doing (his words, not mine) absolutely fuck all all day. I can't help but regret that I've never taken that much interest in the world of computers.
Paddy and John, fellow inmates from the caravan in Walkamin, have staggered broke and bleeding* into town, having had marvelous adventures in a camper van up and down the east coast. They're now living in County Bondi with approximately fifty percent of the population of the emerald isle. Went out for a few swift pints with them yesterday. Well, we had a few swift pints. They drank half the pub. They were very happy when we left them.
We're moving out of Kings Cross to a place in the city centre tomorrow. Will be glad to go. There's nothing especially wrong the place we're at, save for a very narrow kitchen and a curious profusion of Italian charvas, but for some reason my entire time here I've felt like I've been in the way.
*may be a slight exageration.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
City of Lights
For the fourth time since leaving the UK, I am now gainfully employed. This time it's for a company called DealBoard as a customer service and administration manager. It basically sounds like I'm going to get shouted at all day by people who're annoyed that their electric butter knife is late being shipped out. There's also a small issue in that the position is permanent and - barring some sort of intervention by a higher power - I'm getting kicked out of here in about 12 weeks. I therefore had to, well, not lie exactly, but be slightly conservative with the truth in order to get the position. I'm feeling bad about this as they seem a canny bunch, but unfortunately finances dictate that I'm going to have to be slightly ruthless.
Bob is also employed. He in fact got a job approximately half an hour after me, which was pretty much the perfect outcome for him as it meant he got to prove wrong my assertion that he'd find work before me without having to undergo any undue stress or money problems. He's working for the star casino, the same company as he was last time he was here, only this time as a floor walker.
We returned briefly to the blue parrot yesterday. It was the youngest of the Harrison brothers 20th birthday, so we felt it was only right to go and make an offering of tequila. The place is more or less the same as it was when we left it, except that most of the faces had changed (naturally). That said there were a number of people there who I'd apparently met back in January who I didn't know from Adam - though given where my head was at the time, this probably isn't surprising.
We're in the middle of the Vivid festival. It's basically the same as Durham's Lumiere festival only played out on a far larger scale and in a place that people might have actually heard of. It's also national reconciliation week, where every white Australian is required by law to cast their eyes to the ground, awkwardly kick at the ground with one foot and have a bloody good think about what they did*.
Currently feeling slightly homesick. The weather is very reminiscent of England in that it is constantly pissing down. Never mind, it'll pass.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton.
* Please, please, please note that I don't want to make light of the often abhorrent treatment of Australia's indigenous population. Rather at the wishy washy tendency of modern politicians to offer apologies and kind words for past wrongs, rather than any sort of tangible effort to tackle the very real and visible problems that continue to blight many of these communities. I accept that societies need to talk about these issues openly and frankly, but if all your doing is talking, then what you're essentially doing is indulging in a sort of smug, liberal circle jerk.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Only an Idiot Returns to the Scene of a Crime.
I am experiencing deja vu. We are once again back in Kings Cross, in Sydney, in desperate need of work. As stated previously the rational behind this move was that we should theoretically be able to find regular work with relative ease. This seems to be proving the case with Bob, who has already had an interview and been told off the record that there should be a position pressing buttons and shouting at computers available to him if she want it. I have had somewhat less interest. Luckily I have firm, high buttocks and a pretty mouth, so if worst comes to worse I can always sell my body for spare change and jelly babies.
Happily Bia and Liana, ze two german girls that we met on the Great Ocean Road tour are here, so we are currently cramping their style by hanging around with them. We're also meant to be meeting up with Erin and Tia this coming weekend. The former is hosting some sort of tea party to raise money for cancer charities. I don't like tea, but I hate cancer more so I suppose I will be donating. Till then I shall content myself searching for jobs and taking photos of all the things that I didn't the first time round.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Happily Bia and Liana, ze two german girls that we met on the Great Ocean Road tour are here, so we are currently cramping their style by hanging around with them. We're also meant to be meeting up with Erin and Tia this coming weekend. The former is hosting some sort of tea party to raise money for cancer charities. I don't like tea, but I hate cancer more so I suppose I will be donating. Till then I shall content myself searching for jobs and taking photos of all the things that I didn't the first time round.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Thursday, May 17, 2012
I Knew I Shoulda Taken Dat Left Toin at Alberquerqe
Hello from Tasmania. You should come here. It's windy. You won't find me here though, as I'm leaving in the next few days.
We landed in a small city called Devonport. It's one of those Australian towns that consists of a splatter of low rise, low density housing that eventually gives way to a few strips of drive thru eateries, before spluttering into a half hearted city centre and then falling uncerimoniously into the sea. Bob likened it to Chester-le-Street, except with a port, and in all honesty he's not far wrong. It's not a bad town, nor is it a good one. It's one of those places people come from, rather than go to.
The hostel, on the other hand, is a bit shit. It has the clinically threadbare air of a second rate care home, is at least five degrees colder inside than out and the hob in the kitchen is so crap I am unable to boil water on it. Oh, and it smells a bit. They did, however, help us find work on a nearby farm peeling leeks, plucking carrots and getting very, very muddy. It was bloody cold work, but easy and compared to the banana farm the atmosphere was much more positive.
Unfortunately we're only employed on a casual basis, which means that we could work forty hours a week or we could work six. This became an issue for two reasons. Number one we received our visa extension forms back from Greg, our employer back in Mareeba (henceforth known as "the fat prick"). For reasons that I am charitably putting down to incompetence rather than maliciousness he has credited us with working fifty three days rather than the eighty four we're legally entitled to or the fifty eight that the fat prick initially said he'd give us. This isn't much of an issue for me as I don't intend to extend my stay, but it's a kick in the nuts for Bob. Secondly, Bob's English bank have shafted him, removing his overdraft without informing him and charging him a small fortune for the privilege.
Therefore the work we've got is not going to be enough to get us either an extension on our visas or allow us to save enough for further traveling. Bob therefore wants us to return to the mainland, where he's confident that he can find a fairly well paid computer doctor thingy job with a minimum of fuss. Personally, I'm leary about leaving paid employment as I don't share my traveling companion's confidence that I'll find a new one. But if I stay here I'm essentially going to be doing little else but tread water for the remainder of my time.
It's a bit of a shame though, as I quite like Tasmania (or the little I've seen of it anyroads). It's very green and reminds me of England. The rest of Australia seems to have two cliche's about here. Number one it's climate is subartic (which is melodramatic bullshit) and number two it's inhabitants are weird. I don't know if the latter is true. Beardier? Yes. Given to a slightly more *ahem* husky build? Perhaps. But generally the people here seem incredibly genuine and friendly. That said I did pass a wifey the other day, feeding a mob of seagulls through her car window with a spoon, which struck me as a tad unusual.
So it's been a bit of an abortive exhibition. Never mind. On to wherever.
Love and Fishes.
Dave Denton
P.S.
Here is a short educational film about Tasmania:
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The Perfect Blend
I'm not much of a fan of camp. This is mainly because I find it hard to ironically enjoy something and would much rather genuinely enjoy something. I am, however, a big fan of sentimentally and nostalgia. This is one of the reasons that I have never, ever been considered cool and also why I found myself attending a Neighbours evening at a pub called the Elephant and Wheelbarrow.
Neighbours, for those who are neither British or are younger than twenty five, is an Australian soap opera of some renown. It follows the American template for soap operas (pretty people overcoming ludicrous problems) as opposed to the British (ugly people overcoming problems marginally less ludicrous), it's served as a starting point for more than a few Ozzie talents such as Guy Pearce, Kylie Minogue and Natalie Imbruglia and it is utterly naff. My understanding is that it only ever found a modest audience in its native country, but when they exported it back to the mother country we poms went absolutely mental for it. This was mainly due to a canny bit of scheduling. The show was broadcast in the dead hour between the end of CBBC and the time that most people had their tea. This being in the days before we had hundreds and hundreds of digital channels to choose from, it therefore had a captive audience of tweens and early adolescents who lapped up whatever twaddle Toadfish, Lou and the rest were getting up to this week, confident that Ramsay Street in that Erinsborough was the most glamorous place in the world*. The audience demographic and the easy on the eye cast also meant that Neighbours also served as a sexual awakening for more than a few young men and women and part of the reason we were going was to give Bob a chance to wiggle his eyebrows at Libby Kennedy.
Like most people, the last time I watched the show Bill Clinton was still regarded as a loving family man and I wasn't feeling that enthused. The fact that the venue was half full with housewives and studenty types didn't help either. An over excited Irishman bounced around a stage, telling us we were about to have the night of our lives, which seemed a bit optimistic to me. After a few drinks, however, the stick up me arse shifted slightly and I began to enjoy myself. The lovely Libby didn't show (perhaps forewarned about Bob's eyebrows), but her dad, Dr Karl (or Alan Fletcher, as he insisted on being called), did along with an attractive young man and woman who are apparently a couple on the show and looked like they would rather be anywhere else. They did a Q & A and then wandered round the room, asking us if we'd like a picture with them. I now have a photo of me and the anonymous actress. Needless to say, I look fantastically awkward; partly because I detest having my photo taken, partly because the young lady in question is undoubtedly very beautiful and my Mr Potato Head mug is always going to suffer in comparison, but mainly because I didn't have the first fucking clue who she was and she blatantly thought that I did.
The evening culminated with several competitions of the and a quiz. We won a tour around the neighbours set. Which was great. I suppose. The tour consisted of us driving at paedophile cruising speed past the school that used to double for Erinsbrough High School, another Q & A with another actress who I didn't recognise and about half an hour stood at the end of Ramsay Street (In reality it's called Pin Oak Court) waiting to see if they would let us up to have a peek at Harold Bishop's old house (they didn't) and trying not to look bored (we failed). I'm very relieved we didn't pay any money.
The great ocean road tour on Tuesday was much more edifying. The road was a government infrastructure project initiated to link the various coastal communities of Victoria and to provide work for the thousands of squaddies returning from WW1. The road is noteworthy - the logistical dificulties involved in it's construction aside, for winding through some of the most spectacularly beautiful countryside Australia - or indeed the world - has to offer. Every few kilometers there are limestone and sandstone rock formations, most stunning. I also spent money that I don't have on a helicopter ride over the twelve apostles - which was probably the most fun I've had with me pants on for quite some time. Also - you lucky, lucky people - I have finally come to terms with the fact that the camera that I brought with me is not going to miraculously fix itself. So I've bought a new one and can therefore bore you with the various pictures what I gone done took:
We were also lucky enough to find ourselves part of a very lively tour group. Jude, our Aussie guide, was a lovely, personable woman, who was a mine of interesting facts and anecdotes about the various sites and did a great job of geeing everybody up. There was a definite sense of camaraderie within the group and Bob and three German girls (Bia, Liane and Katie) arranged to go to a AFL game the following day - I was invited, but had romance related duties to attend to. By all accounts they enjoyed themselves, despite the fact that none off them were sure of the rules. We saw Bia and Liane a couple more times; first on a failed penguin hunting expedition, at a comedy club (or Bob did. I was again occupied elsewhere) and yesterday at the museum of moving images. They depart on their own separate journeys today. They are lovely girls and I wish them all the best and hope that their futures include nothing but nice things, like flowers and puppies.
My date on Tuesday went well. Well enough that I've spent the majority of the week with her. I can't escape the feeling that if I wasn't leaving this might have been the start of something. But I am. So it is. This has bummed me out slightly. But - he says, trying to put a positive spin on things - I'm lucky to have met and spent time with her.
We sail to Devonport in Tasmania later today. Everybody tells us we're going to freeze our nuts off and have a bastard of a time finding work. I have no reason to doubt they speak the truth.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
* Additional fun Neighbours fact! Many people mistakenly believe that the national anthem of Australia is 'Waltzing Matilda'. This is wrong. The national anthem is in fact the theme tune for everybody's favourite daytime soap, with the word "neighbours" changed to "Australians". Try it. It sounds so right.
Neighbours, for those who are neither British or are younger than twenty five, is an Australian soap opera of some renown. It follows the American template for soap operas (pretty people overcoming ludicrous problems) as opposed to the British (ugly people overcoming problems marginally less ludicrous), it's served as a starting point for more than a few Ozzie talents such as Guy Pearce, Kylie Minogue and Natalie Imbruglia and it is utterly naff. My understanding is that it only ever found a modest audience in its native country, but when they exported it back to the mother country we poms went absolutely mental for it. This was mainly due to a canny bit of scheduling. The show was broadcast in the dead hour between the end of CBBC and the time that most people had their tea. This being in the days before we had hundreds and hundreds of digital channels to choose from, it therefore had a captive audience of tweens and early adolescents who lapped up whatever twaddle Toadfish, Lou and the rest were getting up to this week, confident that Ramsay Street in that Erinsborough was the most glamorous place in the world*. The audience demographic and the easy on the eye cast also meant that Neighbours also served as a sexual awakening for more than a few young men and women and part of the reason we were going was to give Bob a chance to wiggle his eyebrows at Libby Kennedy.
Like most people, the last time I watched the show Bill Clinton was still regarded as a loving family man and I wasn't feeling that enthused. The fact that the venue was half full with housewives and studenty types didn't help either. An over excited Irishman bounced around a stage, telling us we were about to have the night of our lives, which seemed a bit optimistic to me. After a few drinks, however, the stick up me arse shifted slightly and I began to enjoy myself. The lovely Libby didn't show (perhaps forewarned about Bob's eyebrows), but her dad, Dr Karl (or Alan Fletcher, as he insisted on being called), did along with an attractive young man and woman who are apparently a couple on the show and looked like they would rather be anywhere else. They did a Q & A and then wandered round the room, asking us if we'd like a picture with them. I now have a photo of me and the anonymous actress. Needless to say, I look fantastically awkward; partly because I detest having my photo taken, partly because the young lady in question is undoubtedly very beautiful and my Mr Potato Head mug is always going to suffer in comparison, but mainly because I didn't have the first fucking clue who she was and she blatantly thought that I did.
The evening culminated with several competitions of the and a quiz. We won a tour around the neighbours set. Which was great. I suppose. The tour consisted of us driving at paedophile cruising speed past the school that used to double for Erinsbrough High School, another Q & A with another actress who I didn't recognise and about half an hour stood at the end of Ramsay Street (In reality it's called Pin Oak Court) waiting to see if they would let us up to have a peek at Harold Bishop's old house (they didn't) and trying not to look bored (we failed). I'm very relieved we didn't pay any money.
The great ocean road tour on Tuesday was much more edifying. The road was a government infrastructure project initiated to link the various coastal communities of Victoria and to provide work for the thousands of squaddies returning from WW1. The road is noteworthy - the logistical dificulties involved in it's construction aside, for winding through some of the most spectacularly beautiful countryside Australia - or indeed the world - has to offer. Every few kilometers there are limestone and sandstone rock formations, most stunning. I also spent money that I don't have on a helicopter ride over the twelve apostles - which was probably the most fun I've had with me pants on for quite some time. Also - you lucky, lucky people - I have finally come to terms with the fact that the camera that I brought with me is not going to miraculously fix itself. So I've bought a new one and can therefore bore you with the various pictures what I gone done took:
 | |
| The Grotto. Where Santa lives. |
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| The 12Apostles. If you noticed that there are less than 12 of them, congratulations you win a jelly bean |
 |
| Bob at Loch Ard Gorge. Moments later he went for a bit plodge. |
We were also lucky enough to find ourselves part of a very lively tour group. Jude, our Aussie guide, was a lovely, personable woman, who was a mine of interesting facts and anecdotes about the various sites and did a great job of geeing everybody up. There was a definite sense of camaraderie within the group and Bob and three German girls (Bia, Liane and Katie) arranged to go to a AFL game the following day - I was invited, but had romance related duties to attend to. By all accounts they enjoyed themselves, despite the fact that none off them were sure of the rules. We saw Bia and Liane a couple more times; first on a failed penguin hunting expedition, at a comedy club (or Bob did. I was again occupied elsewhere) and yesterday at the museum of moving images. They depart on their own separate journeys today. They are lovely girls and I wish them all the best and hope that their futures include nothing but nice things, like flowers and puppies.
My date on Tuesday went well. Well enough that I've spent the majority of the week with her. I can't escape the feeling that if I wasn't leaving this might have been the start of something. But I am. So it is. This has bummed me out slightly. But - he says, trying to put a positive spin on things - I'm lucky to have met and spent time with her.
We sail to Devonport in Tasmania later today. Everybody tells us we're going to freeze our nuts off and have a bastard of a time finding work. I have no reason to doubt they speak the truth.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
* Additional fun Neighbours fact! Many people mistakenly believe that the national anthem of Australia is 'Waltzing Matilda'. This is wrong. The national anthem is in fact the theme tune for everybody's favourite daytime soap, with the word "neighbours" changed to "Australians". Try it. It sounds so right.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Return of the Native
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| Melbourne street art yesterday |
Melbourne is a fantastic city. Granted, Wigan would probably come across as the epitome of urban cool after a spell up in the Atherton tablelands, but I'm fairly sure my judgement isn't entirely subjective. There is a distinct bohemian vibe here in comparison to Sydney. There are countless hidden streets and cul de sacs to explore, every other wall has a painting or mural on it - most of them amazing - and you could spend the rest of your life checking out the various independent stores and back alley bars. It is also a very good looking city, handsome as opposed to beautiful, every street consisting of a jumble of architectural styles and only very rarely lapsing into the concrete functionality that Sydney was occasionally prone to.
We are staying in a hostel called Habitat HQ in the suburb of St Kilda. The hostel is nice enough, with all the amenities you'd expect, though at times a tad impersonal. That said we did meet two lovely young ladies, Katy and Jen who we hit it off with. I went out for a coffee and a wander with Katy on Wednesday.
Before either of my sisters or Bob's mam gets too excited, this date was pretty much doomed from the start due to her receiving an email from her ex boyfriend that threw her for an emotional loop, an occurrence which I can only describe as a trans-hemispheric cock block. Granted, there may have been other factors in play (such as that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't that into me) but I'll go with the explanation I was given as this way I don't have to do any painful self analysis and get to use the phrase "trans-hemispheric cock block".
We were invited to an eighties themed fancy dress the other night. This was to celebrate the birthday of Vanessa, an old friend of Bobs. Like many of her countrymen/women, she and her boyfriend Ryan served a year in London while doing the travelling that I'm pretty sure is mandatory under Australian law and they were nice enough to invite Bob down one New Years, with me being his plus one. I'm not really a fancy dress person, primarily because I don't care enough to put in the effort to make a really exceptional costume, but at the same time too self conscious to rock up wearing a costume that I threw together in a matter of minutes. In the end, after about four hours of tramping the streets of Melbourne, I managed to source a khaki set of coveralls and fashion a passable ghostbuster outfit, while Bob went as Marty McFly. Considering I only knew a handful of the people there and my relationship to the birthday girl was slightly tangential I felt very welcome and had a really good time.
I'm going to the cinema with a girl I met there on Tuesday. I make that two dates in just over a week, which I'm pretty sure is a sign of the end times.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Friday, April 20, 2012
So Long and Thanks For All the 'Nanas
I am done. No more waking up at five o' clock in the bastard morning. No more sticky banana fingers and smelling of sweat and diesel. No more waking up and realising that the absolute highlight of my day is watching Top Gear and Man Versus Wild repeats and then retreating to a corrufgated iron shed for a private weep at the patheticness of it all. I am now in Cairns. They have indoor plumbing and air conditioning and tumble dryers and I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed. I also have access to the internet, after ours crapped itself a few weeks back so - after discovering a shouty message from Bob's mam about my lack of activity - I am back to rambling about stuff wot I have done.
My last couple of weeks were made more bearable by the arrival of Old Man and Fat Lass - that is, me da and wor Rosie - who have been travelling through Australia in a camper van, trying to solve the mystery of the Empress Ruby. They took time out from their sleuthing to visit their very handsomest family member and give Bob some drugs (motherflipper always be juicing).
I was, suffice to say, very happy to see them. I do love and miss me family, but it's easy to put that to the back of your mind when your on the other side of the globe. It was reassuring to have it confirmed that everybody is okay, that our Alice hasn't gotten a face tattoo, our Josh hasn't been arrested for selling cake to minors or our Jake hasn't been crippled chasing after the ice cream man. Access to transport also meant that we could actually go places and do stuff so me and Bob hopped into their battle bus and went off to see some of this country that we're meant to be exploring. We drove up to cape tribulation, a stretch of unspoiled beach north of Cairns and one of the first stopping places of Jim Cook (good Boro lad, y'know) when he first popped over here. The beach was lovely and the sea was lovely and warm. Unfortunately we were unable to swim in it due to the prevalence of box jellyfish at this time of year and my aversion to dying. The drive back was absolutely spectacular, taking in some of most beautiful coastal road I have ever seen. The next day we left Bob in Cairns to do something about his hair and went on a tour of some the local waterfalls around Millaa Millaa. Lovely stuff and I have pictures, but they're on my crappy, crappy phone, so they're not getting uploaded any time soon.
There was a bit of an odd incident where I nearly got my head kicked in by a random American. We were staying in a hotel in Cairns and due to availability issues we had to change rooms. I spent the day with the family and then left for the room I was sharing with Bob, who had the key. Unfortunately I had the wrong room number in my head and ended up knocking on the wrong door. It was opened up by a rather heavy set gentleman (by which I mean a big, fat fucker) with a heavy Noo Yoik accent, who informed me in no uncertain terms that this was not my room. He slammed the door in my face only to open it again ten seconds later as I was ringing Bob to get the correct number, yelling and threatening me. I'm not very good at confrontation, which coupled with the ludicrous level of over-reaction, meant my response was basically to stand there blinking stupidly, desperately trying to work out if this was some sort of American humour that Limeys don't get, which probably enraged him further. Eventually he stomped back into his room and I found out where I was meant to be. Even then, for the next hour, I could hear him going into the hall at ten minute intervals and bellowing death threats into the empty air. A very odd chap. Maybe he'd had a bad day.
Returning to the banana farm for the final two weeks was not fun. The two Italian lads I mentioned previously have left due to rheumatism. They were replaced by another Italian and an Irish lad, called Ivan and Ian respectively - though now we've left they've been promoted to Dave and Bob. Our remaining time dragged like a motherflipper, but all things must pass and our last day eventually rolled rounded. Greg, our boss for the last three months, let us go without so much as a thank you and then informed us that he was unable to sign us off for our visa there and then as all paperwork has to be processed at his office in Tully (it's worth noting here that this is a problem only at this particular farm. Every other place in the region is more than happy to simply sign the form, pat you on the arse and wish you the best of luck). We've therefore left the forms with him and he'll complete the thirty second job as and when he can be boshed, scan them and send them out to us.
Bugger it, I don't care. I'm no longer working on a banana farm and that's all that matters. So it's a couple of days here and then on the plane down to Melbourne. Peace out and fuck bananas.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
My last couple of weeks were made more bearable by the arrival of Old Man and Fat Lass - that is, me da and wor Rosie - who have been travelling through Australia in a camper van, trying to solve the mystery of the Empress Ruby. They took time out from their sleuthing to visit their very handsomest family member and give Bob some drugs (motherflipper always be juicing).
I was, suffice to say, very happy to see them. I do love and miss me family, but it's easy to put that to the back of your mind when your on the other side of the globe. It was reassuring to have it confirmed that everybody is okay, that our Alice hasn't gotten a face tattoo, our Josh hasn't been arrested for selling cake to minors or our Jake hasn't been crippled chasing after the ice cream man. Access to transport also meant that we could actually go places and do stuff so me and Bob hopped into their battle bus and went off to see some of this country that we're meant to be exploring. We drove up to cape tribulation, a stretch of unspoiled beach north of Cairns and one of the first stopping places of Jim Cook (good Boro lad, y'know) when he first popped over here. The beach was lovely and the sea was lovely and warm. Unfortunately we were unable to swim in it due to the prevalence of box jellyfish at this time of year and my aversion to dying. The drive back was absolutely spectacular, taking in some of most beautiful coastal road I have ever seen. The next day we left Bob in Cairns to do something about his hair and went on a tour of some the local waterfalls around Millaa Millaa. Lovely stuff and I have pictures, but they're on my crappy, crappy phone, so they're not getting uploaded any time soon.
There was a bit of an odd incident where I nearly got my head kicked in by a random American. We were staying in a hotel in Cairns and due to availability issues we had to change rooms. I spent the day with the family and then left for the room I was sharing with Bob, who had the key. Unfortunately I had the wrong room number in my head and ended up knocking on the wrong door. It was opened up by a rather heavy set gentleman (by which I mean a big, fat fucker) with a heavy Noo Yoik accent, who informed me in no uncertain terms that this was not my room. He slammed the door in my face only to open it again ten seconds later as I was ringing Bob to get the correct number, yelling and threatening me. I'm not very good at confrontation, which coupled with the ludicrous level of over-reaction, meant my response was basically to stand there blinking stupidly, desperately trying to work out if this was some sort of American humour that Limeys don't get, which probably enraged him further. Eventually he stomped back into his room and I found out where I was meant to be. Even then, for the next hour, I could hear him going into the hall at ten minute intervals and bellowing death threats into the empty air. A very odd chap. Maybe he'd had a bad day.
Returning to the banana farm for the final two weeks was not fun. The two Italian lads I mentioned previously have left due to rheumatism. They were replaced by another Italian and an Irish lad, called Ivan and Ian respectively - though now we've left they've been promoted to Dave and Bob. Our remaining time dragged like a motherflipper, but all things must pass and our last day eventually rolled rounded. Greg, our boss for the last three months, let us go without so much as a thank you and then informed us that he was unable to sign us off for our visa there and then as all paperwork has to be processed at his office in Tully (it's worth noting here that this is a problem only at this particular farm. Every other place in the region is more than happy to simply sign the form, pat you on the arse and wish you the best of luck). We've therefore left the forms with him and he'll complete the thirty second job as and when he can be boshed, scan them and send them out to us.
Bugger it, I don't care. I'm no longer working on a banana farm and that's all that matters. So it's a couple of days here and then on the plane down to Melbourne. Peace out and fuck bananas.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Another Post About Nothing
I'm now three quarters of the way through my time here. Not much has happened here, save for a crapload of rain, so I'm essentially putting finger to keyboard for forms sake and so that Missus Walker doesn't shout at me. The weeks are kind of begining to mush together in a big banananie blur. Two Italian guys have joined us on the farm. At the moment they are very clean and scrubbed looking. It will be interesting to see what they look like after a few weeks. Fitch, our resident Frenchman, went to Melbourne last week for the gand prix. Amazingly he returned after a few days to work a further two weeks. Encouragingly he seems taken with the place, so much so that he's changed his plans so that he returns there next week, rather than to Brisbane.
He will also be taking the caravan's xbox with him when he goes (He's quite fond of saying "I like X-box and weed", which - as mottos go - may not be very catchy, but is incredibly to the point accurate). This doesn't bother me as, although I do play computer games occassionally, The Further Adventures of Anonymous Man with a Gun has never really captured my imagination. For Bob however this has given him a deadline to collect all available achievements or bonuses or something similar. If he manages it in time Ronald McDonald will come to the caravan in person and give hime a free burger and a big sloppy kiss. My fingers are crossed for him.
In the next week our Rosie and me dad should be landing in this hemisphere on holibobs. Hopefully I should be able to meet up with them. Also it was my brother Josh's birthday a little while back. He used to be my little brother, but has elected to skip his twenties and go straight on to his thirties. Happy birthday, old man.
Here is a picture of some shoes with Justin Bieber's face on them:
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
He will also be taking the caravan's xbox with him when he goes (He's quite fond of saying "I like X-box and weed", which - as mottos go - may not be very catchy, but is incredibly to the point accurate). This doesn't bother me as, although I do play computer games occassionally, The Further Adventures of Anonymous Man with a Gun has never really captured my imagination. For Bob however this has given him a deadline to collect all available achievements or bonuses or something similar. If he manages it in time Ronald McDonald will come to the caravan in person and give hime a free burger and a big sloppy kiss. My fingers are crossed for him.
In the next week our Rosie and me dad should be landing in this hemisphere on holibobs. Hopefully I should be able to meet up with them. Also it was my brother Josh's birthday a little while back. He used to be my little brother, but has elected to skip his twenties and go straight on to his thirties. Happy birthday, old man.
Here is a picture of some shoes with Justin Bieber's face on them:
 |
Dave Denton
Thursday, March 22, 2012
50 Things I Now Know About Bananas
1) Each banana tree only produces a single bunch of bananas that can weigh up to 120kg.
2) There are actually many different types of banana, such as Cavendish, Lady Finger and Jersey Royal.
3) You can make wine from bananas, which sounds utterly disgusting.
4) Despite what I was told as a teenager, smoking dried banana skins does precisely bot all in terms of getting you high. You would get more of a buzz from licking an empty paracetamol bottle.
5) There has never, ever, ever been an EU directive dictating how curved bananas should be, despite what The Sun says.
6) "Banana" is Cockney rhyming slang for diarrhea: banana = banana splits = raging shits
7) Bananas were originally purple, but were selectively bred to acquire their yellow skin by Wilhelm von Rumpledink, Stadtholder of Freisland, who was a Norwich City fan.
8) Bananas are invisible, but only when nobody is looking at them.
9) If you take a banana and two apples, you can use it to make the shape of a smiley face.
10) You can also use a banana and two apples to make the shape of other things - and if you thought of those first, shame on you.
11) Banana skins, ironically, are a key ingredient in most adhesives..
12) It is physically impossible to feel depressed when holding a banana.
13) Most, but not all, bananas are bigger on the inside than the outside.
14) The last person able to spell the word banana was Fred Tupple from Merthyr Tydfill, who died in 1985.
15) If you are really, really quiet on a night, maybe - just maybe - you can hear the mournful singing of the bananas.
16) The first banana came from Papua New Guinea. This doesn't stop most modern bananas claiming they are Irish.
17) In 2008 US citizens ate approximately 300 tons of frozen bananas. By way of contrast, over the same period only 9 tons of bread products were consumed.
18) Bananaman, the Dandy comic strip about a boy who turns into a superhero when he eats a banana - is the best thing created by anyone ever. This has been proven by science.
19) A banana leaf makes a very serviceable umbrella, if you ever find yourself stuck in a field in Queensland, in the pissing down rain, wondering where your life went wrong.
20) In an emergency, bank robbers have been known to use a banana in place of a gun.
21) It is physically impossible to eat a banana in the dark.
22) Numerous predators can be found living in a banana tree, such as the banana spider and the banana snake. Most feared of all, however, is the banana shark.
23) Luckily the banana shark is not particularly fast on land, averaging speeds of 0mph. Therefore, if you survive its initial lunge you can just poke it with a stick till it dies of shame.
24) The first recorded incident of someone slipping on a banana skin was a Barnaby Knowles in Jamica in 1791. He hit his head and later died of his injuries
25) The first European to see a banana was Captain Dominique Beaufrite, who immediately stuck a flag in it and claimed it for France.
26) Former Soviet premier Nikkita Krushchev refused to believe in the existence of bananas until his death in 1971, believing the to be a "capitalist chimera"
27) Something involving Chuck Norris
28) During prohibition in the US, bananas were also outlawed. The fact that nobody set up illegal banana bootrunning operation tells us quite a lot about the human condition.
29) It's perhaps not surprising to hear that actor Antonio Banderas is a fan of bananas, especially when you consider his name is an anagram of "Mmm! Tasty yellow fruit."
30) If you say the word "banana" into a mirror five times absoloutley nothing will happen to you.
31) Only a banana can kill another banana.
32) The banana is the world's third most popular fruit, behind the kumquat and spanish nectarine.
33) 78% of men find the sight of a woman eating a banana to be deeply erotic. This is because men are truly pathetic creatures.
34) Bananas are referred to several times in the Bible, though only by the name "squishy longfruit".
35) Making inane and pointless lists about bananas is one of the top ten signs that you have far too much time on your hands.
36) Despite being curved, you cannot throw a banana like a boomerang.
37) Nobody actually likes bananas, but we all pretend we do in an effort to fit in.
38) An empty banana skin can be used in an emergency to make a little hat.
39) The South Georgia penguin has a unique mating ritual, wherein the male will present the female with a freshly picked banana. As there are no bananas in the South Georgia islands, the entire breed became extinct decades ago.
40) The average banana is the size of a family saloon car. The ones you buy in the supermarket only seem smaller because you are looking at them from far away.
41) Bananas are completely waterproof, which is fitting as if you squint and turn the lights down really low they look a tiny, tiny bit like a little submarine.
42) All baby bananas hope one day to grow up to be a watermelon.
43) Certain fish and chip shops in Britain will deep fat fry a banana for you if you ask nicely and really, really want heart disease.
44) A ton of bananas weighs twice as much as a ton of pomegranates
45) Of all the fruits in the world the banana is, by far, the most arrogant.
46) 30% of people, having read fact 30, will have immediately given it a go.
47) 89% of people, having read the above fact, will have scrolled back up to number 30 to check what it was again.
48) The importation of bananas was made illegal by the Turkmenstani government in 1999. Nobody in the outside world cared.
49) Despite being used for racist prop comedy by British football hooligans, bananas themselves are pretty non judgemental.
50) Except for Mexicans. Bananas fucking hate Mexicans.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
2) There are actually many different types of banana, such as Cavendish, Lady Finger and Jersey Royal.
3) You can make wine from bananas, which sounds utterly disgusting.
4) Despite what I was told as a teenager, smoking dried banana skins does precisely bot all in terms of getting you high. You would get more of a buzz from licking an empty paracetamol bottle.
5) There has never, ever, ever been an EU directive dictating how curved bananas should be, despite what The Sun says.
6) "Banana" is Cockney rhyming slang for diarrhea: banana = banana splits = raging shits
7) Bananas were originally purple, but were selectively bred to acquire their yellow skin by Wilhelm von Rumpledink, Stadtholder of Freisland, who was a Norwich City fan.
8) Bananas are invisible, but only when nobody is looking at them.
9) If you take a banana and two apples, you can use it to make the shape of a smiley face.
10) You can also use a banana and two apples to make the shape of other things - and if you thought of those first, shame on you.
11) Banana skins, ironically, are a key ingredient in most adhesives..
12) It is physically impossible to feel depressed when holding a banana.
13) Most, but not all, bananas are bigger on the inside than the outside.
14) The last person able to spell the word banana was Fred Tupple from Merthyr Tydfill, who died in 1985.
15) If you are really, really quiet on a night, maybe - just maybe - you can hear the mournful singing of the bananas.
16) The first banana came from Papua New Guinea. This doesn't stop most modern bananas claiming they are Irish.
17) In 2008 US citizens ate approximately 300 tons of frozen bananas. By way of contrast, over the same period only 9 tons of bread products were consumed.
18) Bananaman, the Dandy comic strip about a boy who turns into a superhero when he eats a banana - is the best thing created by anyone ever. This has been proven by science.
19) A banana leaf makes a very serviceable umbrella, if you ever find yourself stuck in a field in Queensland, in the pissing down rain, wondering where your life went wrong.
20) In an emergency, bank robbers have been known to use a banana in place of a gun.
21) It is physically impossible to eat a banana in the dark.
22) Numerous predators can be found living in a banana tree, such as the banana spider and the banana snake. Most feared of all, however, is the banana shark.
23) Luckily the banana shark is not particularly fast on land, averaging speeds of 0mph. Therefore, if you survive its initial lunge you can just poke it with a stick till it dies of shame.
24) The first recorded incident of someone slipping on a banana skin was a Barnaby Knowles in Jamica in 1791. He hit his head and later died of his injuries
25) The first European to see a banana was Captain Dominique Beaufrite, who immediately stuck a flag in it and claimed it for France.
26) Former Soviet premier Nikkita Krushchev refused to believe in the existence of bananas until his death in 1971, believing the to be a "capitalist chimera"
27) Something involving Chuck Norris
28) During prohibition in the US, bananas were also outlawed. The fact that nobody set up illegal banana bootrunning operation tells us quite a lot about the human condition.
29) It's perhaps not surprising to hear that actor Antonio Banderas is a fan of bananas, especially when you consider his name is an anagram of "Mmm! Tasty yellow fruit."
30) If you say the word "banana" into a mirror five times absoloutley nothing will happen to you.
31) Only a banana can kill another banana.
32) The banana is the world's third most popular fruit, behind the kumquat and spanish nectarine.
33) 78% of men find the sight of a woman eating a banana to be deeply erotic. This is because men are truly pathetic creatures.
34) Bananas are referred to several times in the Bible, though only by the name "squishy longfruit".
35) Making inane and pointless lists about bananas is one of the top ten signs that you have far too much time on your hands.
36) Despite being curved, you cannot throw a banana like a boomerang.
37) Nobody actually likes bananas, but we all pretend we do in an effort to fit in.
38) An empty banana skin can be used in an emergency to make a little hat.
39) The South Georgia penguin has a unique mating ritual, wherein the male will present the female with a freshly picked banana. As there are no bananas in the South Georgia islands, the entire breed became extinct decades ago.
40) The average banana is the size of a family saloon car. The ones you buy in the supermarket only seem smaller because you are looking at them from far away.
41) Bananas are completely waterproof, which is fitting as if you squint and turn the lights down really low they look a tiny, tiny bit like a little submarine.
42) All baby bananas hope one day to grow up to be a watermelon.
43) Certain fish and chip shops in Britain will deep fat fry a banana for you if you ask nicely and really, really want heart disease.
44) A ton of bananas weighs twice as much as a ton of pomegranates
45) Of all the fruits in the world the banana is, by far, the most arrogant.
46) 30% of people, having read fact 30, will have immediately given it a go.
47) 89% of people, having read the above fact, will have scrolled back up to number 30 to check what it was again.
48) The importation of bananas was made illegal by the Turkmenstani government in 1999. Nobody in the outside world cared.
49) Despite being used for racist prop comedy by British football hooligans, bananas themselves are pretty non judgemental.
50) Except for Mexicans. Bananas fucking hate Mexicans.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Pogue Mahone
I'm currently writing this from a half empty caravan - total population me, Bob and a Canadian lad named Cameron.. The reason for this is that almost everybody else has gone down into Cairns to celebrate everybody's favourite snake botherer, Saint Patrick. For some reason, up here in the tablelands the Irish are the most common foreign nationality you're likely to come across and people have been looking forward to this like prisoners serving a life sentence waiting for a conjugal visit. I've elected not to follow them for the following reasons.
1) I'm not Irish.
2) I distrust any holiday which dictates that I go get drunk (see also, new years eve) as the night almost always end up as a damp squib.
3) If I go down Cairns I don't think I'll return.
4) I'm boring.
They decided to mix things up at work this week and have had us tying bags to the bananas that are ripening on the trees. Normally this is done atop a super duper woofinexing machine that you drives you along the rows and moves you up and down the trees. However, as we are pommy, back packing scum, we were instead given a step ladder and a bin bag to protect us from the rain. As far as jobs go it's alright and is at least a change to the normal scheduule. It is also like doing a step aerobics class for eight hours.
Still getting used to my newly shaved bonce. I went out in the sun for ten minutes last week and managed to burn my lily white, naked skull. The latter part of the week has therefore consisted of me indulging in the surprisingly diverting past time of peeling dead skin off my head. One of my eyes also went a fetching shade of pink as it wasn't producing enough tears. This may be because (*he looks out over the horizon and his voice becomes choked with regrets and memories*) I have cried enough tears for two lifetimes, or may be because my last job on the farm involved me getting squirted in the eye with diesel a dozen time a day.
I would like to take this opportunity - with my flaky scalp, my gammy eye, my trousers held up with a bit of twine and my distinctive aroma of sweat and kerosene - to remind all the laydeez out there that I'm curently single.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
1) I'm not Irish.
2) I distrust any holiday which dictates that I go get drunk (see also, new years eve) as the night almost always end up as a damp squib.
3) If I go down Cairns I don't think I'll return.
4) I'm boring.
They decided to mix things up at work this week and have had us tying bags to the bananas that are ripening on the trees. Normally this is done atop a super duper woofinexing machine that you drives you along the rows and moves you up and down the trees. However, as we are pommy, back packing scum, we were instead given a step ladder and a bin bag to protect us from the rain. As far as jobs go it's alright and is at least a change to the normal scheduule. It is also like doing a step aerobics class for eight hours.
Still getting used to my newly shaved bonce. I went out in the sun for ten minutes last week and managed to burn my lily white, naked skull. The latter part of the week has therefore consisted of me indulging in the surprisingly diverting past time of peeling dead skin off my head. One of my eyes also went a fetching shade of pink as it wasn't producing enough tears. This may be because (*he looks out over the horizon and his voice becomes choked with regrets and memories*) I have cried enough tears for two lifetimes, or may be because my last job on the farm involved me getting squirted in the eye with diesel a dozen time a day.
I would like to take this opportunity - with my flaky scalp, my gammy eye, my trousers held up with a bit of twine and my distinctive aroma of sweat and kerosene - to remind all the laydeez out there that I'm curently single.
 | ||||||||||
| Play your cards right and you could be on this. |
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Captain Space Monkey.
Congratulations to me. I have been in this caravan with eight hairy men and their feet for six weeks now and I have yet to break down in tears, run away under the cover of darkness or scream, cover myself in mayonaise and assault somebody with a broom. I have perfected the art of zoning out - my mind detaching itself from the withered husk of my body and floating away to different places, times and dimensions. If anybody talks to me, I smile vacantly - a line of drool drip, drip dripping down my unshaven chin. Bob maintains his sanity though a combination of internet, X box, low level grumbling and almost obsesively counting down the hours/day/minutes till we can say tatty bye to our employer.
Despite my fradulent posting last week - I've yet to be eaten by a snake or some other nasty. This is more of an achievement than it sounds as the slithery little buggers are quite prevalent up here. There was a brief kerfuffle when one got into the caravan last week. It wasn't a taipan or brown - which are both, as far as I understand it, lethal - but if it had bitten any of us it would certainly have ended with a very protracted and unpleasant hospital visit. In the end we drove it out with boiling water and one of the guys cut off it's head - which perhaps sounds harsh, but the one piece of advice you will recieve from everybody up here is that you don't want to piss around with these buggers. There was alsoanother snake based incident when a brown snake had a go at me out in the field after I had the temerity to drop a leaf on its head. I let out a girly squeak and did a sortt of awkward dance around it. Thankfully it didn't press the issue and slithered on its way, probably muttering to itself in parsel tongue or whatever. It occurs to me that, given my somewhat blundering nature and not entirely baseless reputation for bad luck, that with a long enough timeline it is almost certain that I am going to be bitten by something truly nasty. If that happens I want to make it known here and now that I wish to be buried at sea.
I moan, but there are a few advantages to my current situation. I've certainly lost a fair bit of weight (approximately one and a half stone since I first left - and I was hardly a porker to begin with). It also gives me the opportunity to do things I wouldn't normally when in society, either due to time constraints or fear of the cruel, judgemental glares of society. I'm currently reading Catch 22 and this morning - in a move partly the result of practicallity and partly the result of enui - I shaved my head. For pretty much my entire adult life I've worn my hair quite long, think of the bassist in a mid levek indie rock band and you'll get the general idea, so this is quite a departure for me.
I'm still getting used to it. And not just the way it looks, but the way it feels. Seriously. How do bald people wear hats. It just feels wierd. That said, I've definitely had worse hair cuts in my time. I was also surprised to find that the new, aerodynamic me looks a bit like my brother Josh, so maybe I'm not the milkman's son after all.
So there you go. Come do agricultural work in the Atherton Tablelands. You'll be so bored you'll shave you head.
Before I go, had a dream the other week. In it I was showing a girl Durham so she could make an appointment on time. I didn't know the girl, but as I showed her round it became apparent that she was not only attractive, but incredibly clever, howlingly funny and that I was somewhat besotted with her. I only mention this for two reasons. Number one - this is the first dream I've had since November that hasn't been deeply unpleasant and upsetting, so it hopefully marks some sort of return to a degree of psychic wellness. Number two - I distinctly remember a song playing in the dream, which has now been lodged in my head for over a week now. I'm now going to inflict it on you.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Despite my fradulent posting last week - I've yet to be eaten by a snake or some other nasty. This is more of an achievement than it sounds as the slithery little buggers are quite prevalent up here. There was a brief kerfuffle when one got into the caravan last week. It wasn't a taipan or brown - which are both, as far as I understand it, lethal - but if it had bitten any of us it would certainly have ended with a very protracted and unpleasant hospital visit. In the end we drove it out with boiling water and one of the guys cut off it's head - which perhaps sounds harsh, but the one piece of advice you will recieve from everybody up here is that you don't want to piss around with these buggers. There was alsoanother snake based incident when a brown snake had a go at me out in the field after I had the temerity to drop a leaf on its head. I let out a girly squeak and did a sortt of awkward dance around it. Thankfully it didn't press the issue and slithered on its way, probably muttering to itself in parsel tongue or whatever. It occurs to me that, given my somewhat blundering nature and not entirely baseless reputation for bad luck, that with a long enough timeline it is almost certain that I am going to be bitten by something truly nasty. If that happens I want to make it known here and now that I wish to be buried at sea.
I moan, but there are a few advantages to my current situation. I've certainly lost a fair bit of weight (approximately one and a half stone since I first left - and I was hardly a porker to begin with). It also gives me the opportunity to do things I wouldn't normally when in society, either due to time constraints or fear of the cruel, judgemental glares of society. I'm currently reading Catch 22 and this morning - in a move partly the result of practicallity and partly the result of enui - I shaved my head. For pretty much my entire adult life I've worn my hair quite long, think of the bassist in a mid levek indie rock band and you'll get the general idea, so this is quite a departure for me.
 |
| Me, all sexy and that. |
So there you go. Come do agricultural work in the Atherton Tablelands. You'll be so bored you'll shave you head.
Before I go, had a dream the other week. In it I was showing a girl Durham so she could make an appointment on time. I didn't know the girl, but as I showed her round it became apparent that she was not only attractive, but incredibly clever, howlingly funny and that I was somewhat besotted with her. I only mention this for two reasons. Number one - this is the first dream I've had since November that hasn't been deeply unpleasant and upsetting, so it hopefully marks some sort of return to a degree of psychic wellness. Number two - I distinctly remember a song playing in the dream, which has now been lodged in my head for over a week now. I'm now going to inflict it on you.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Apologies
Sorry about the lack of an update on Sunday. I have been eaten by a snake. A big one. I will get back to you as soon as possible.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
Saturday, February 25, 2012
There's a Man Up On the Mountain. Why He's Up There, Fuck Knows
Why, hello there. Long time no see. I hope you've kept busy and many wonderful things have happened to you since I've last posted. You are looking very handsome/pretty and I must say, that is a smashing top you've got on. Would I be correct in guessing that you've been working out?
It is, however, not for everybody. The nearest town is a good four hour walk away and the isolation and lack of distraction can be maddening. An Irish lad lasted here all of one night before announcing that he couldn't take it anymore and sneaking off before anybody asked him for money. Bob, has not yet made an escape attempt, but certain subtle tells hint that he's not especially happy being stuck in the arse end of nowhere and is counting down the days till we leave.
You've basically got to make you're own entertainment. Bob sanity is preserved by surfing the web and playing Xbox with Fitch, one of our fellow inmates. Last night I watched as three grown men hunted down a cane toad, licked it and then rubbed cigarette papers over its skin in the vain hope that they might get high off the poor thing's excretions. The only thing this resulted in was one of the lads getting his hands covered in toad piss. As for myself, I've been reading an inordinate amount of books and a lot of doodling (FYI, if you're in anyway curious as to what it is I actually do when I'm sat with a sketchbook and pencil, my tongue stuck out the side of my mouth, /I uploaded a bunch of stuff at http://stitchskincomic.com/ during my brief return to the UK and set it away so that it should update once a week for the next year or so. I make no apologies for the quality. I am, more than anythinjg, a trier.)
I've also become slightly infamous for going off on long walks (like, seven hour long walks) and getting completely and utterly drenched in one of the sudden downpours that are common this time of year.
The seccond week I was here I walked to one of the local waterfalls. Having achieved waterfall I scaled a nearby mountain (In truth it's nearer a hill, but we're already a hell of a way above sea level, so it counts). From the peak I had a good view of the tablelands and the endless rolling hills of the great dividing range. The climb down was slightly hairy, compounded by the face that it soon became apparent that the entire area was ridden with spiders. I'm no arachnophobe, but these things freaked the hell out of me. About three inches long with fat, poisonous looking and legs like witch's fingers. Their webs stretched between two tree trunks, roughly level with my face. As soon as I noticed one I noticed another, then anothert, then another, giving me the vaguely disquieting feeling that I was being surrounded.
Australie is, of course, reknowned for the number of nasty little beasties floating around. I've seen numerous snakes since I've got here. The other week I nearly stood on a long tailed brown bastard snake (may not be it's actual name) that I've been reliably informed would have killed me if it had got it into its tiny reptile brain to bite me. I was lucky there, but we haven't completely managed to avoid being a food source. The second day on the job Bob got bitten on the face by some unidentified crkitter which caused his bottom lip to swell up to twice it's usual size. Yesterday it was my turn. I was happily lost in the open mouthed trance I habitually go into while working when it suddenly felt as if someone had opened up my wrist with a razor blade. I yelped like a puppy that has had its tail stepped on. Looking down I saw a puncture wound, round which the flesh was turning puffy and yellow. There are certain thoughts that swirl through your head when you realise that you've been bitten or stung by something while in a locale that is famous for the incredibly venomous nature of its indigenous fauna - none of them happy. In the end it transpired that I'd gotten got by nothing more harmful than a paper wasp, whose sting is incredibly painful but - providing you don't go into anaphylaptic shock - but non lethal.
In order to prevent full blown cabin fever, every two weeks a trip is organised to a bar at either Atherton or Mareeba the only two places in the area with more than a dozen residents. We therefore put on our best togs and headed into Atherton. To be honest, it was pretty much what you'd expect from a small club night in a tiny country town. Not much worth reporting happened, save for the fact that we bumped into Korbi - who has had to temporarily leave the lovely Poppy in order to earn some scratch - and Bob nearly got into a fight with some arsehole who decided that his tone was condescending (Apparently this guy is one of those wankers who tries to start a fight with someone every time he gets a drink in him. Here's hoping his next shit's a hedgehog.)
Now that I have access to a computer I'll try and get back to the weekly updates. Not sure what I'll actually write about as there's not a lot of stuff worth reporting going on up here. Expect lots of filler where I regale you with my Babylon 5/Only Fools and Horses slash fic and let you know eactly why it is cows look forward to getting milked.
Oh and many happy returns to Missus Walker, who is again celebrating her twenty first birthday. My present to you is the Withnail and I reference in the post title and a picture of a kitten.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton.
*If you got the Philip Larkin reference there, congratulations, you get a gold star and a free smacked bottom!
I myself, as reported last time, have spent the last month working on a banana farm. I don't, or rather didn't, have access to a computer, which is the reason for the long silence. Bob, who is something of a technophile, has a laptop, but broke the screen last December, effectively rendering it useless. Eventually, after three weeks of increasing irritability he cracked and bought a monitor. You can't really begrudge him the luxury, given that the existence we currently find ourselves living is not really to his taste. Banana taming is monotonous, if not especially physically taxing. Our work, such as it is, basically involves removing leaves from plants using a scythe, manually adding filters to the sprinkler system and injecting unwanted offshoots with diesel so that they die. The first few days here involved parts of me I didn't even know I had being all hurty. This is to be expected, I suppose. Even if all you were doing all day is wubbling, after eight hours or so you're wubbling muscles would be in agony. Which I suppose serves you right. You filthy wubbler you.
Prior to my arrival here I was led to believe that I'd be living in a house. This is true only if your definition of a house is so liberal that it basically means "not a tent". My accomodation consists of three dilapidated caravans parked next to each other, forming a courtyard over which a couple of sheets of corrugated metal have been welded. I currently share these digs with eight other dudes, women being something of a rarity up here. Everyone is canny enough, although there is a lad with a slightly fog hornish quality who can occasionally be hard work. Despite the insects and cane toads that infest the place it's not actually that bad. Tammy, the lady whose propert the caravans sit on is friendly enough and will occasionally provide chicken wings and beer in exchange for help with various odd jobs. It's nice to be surrounded by farm animals such as horses, pigs, cows and goats (though there's less of these now the butcher va ns been round) as well as wild creatures such as wallabies and macaws whose feathers are so black, you'd swear you wear only seeing their silhouette. The surrrounding landscape isn't especially spectacular, but it can occassionally surprise you. Groping back to bed after a piss I was startled by the night sky*. I am, of course, aware that there are things called "stars" up there and that when they are visible in sufficient numbers the overall effect is generally agreed to be "pretty", but this was somethiong else. There is next to no light pollution here and sky was as naked as a virgin on her wedding night. Millions upon millions of points of light puncture the velvet black. The different constellations are clearly visible as are the occasional flash of a shooting star. It's jaw dropping.It is, however, not for everybody. The nearest town is a good four hour walk away and the isolation and lack of distraction can be maddening. An Irish lad lasted here all of one night before announcing that he couldn't take it anymore and sneaking off before anybody asked him for money. Bob, has not yet made an escape attempt, but certain subtle tells hint that he's not especially happy being stuck in the arse end of nowhere and is counting down the days till we leave.
You've basically got to make you're own entertainment. Bob sanity is preserved by surfing the web and playing Xbox with Fitch, one of our fellow inmates. Last night I watched as three grown men hunted down a cane toad, licked it and then rubbed cigarette papers over its skin in the vain hope that they might get high off the poor thing's excretions. The only thing this resulted in was one of the lads getting his hands covered in toad piss. As for myself, I've been reading an inordinate amount of books and a lot of doodling (FYI, if you're in anyway curious as to what it is I actually do when I'm sat with a sketchbook and pencil, my tongue stuck out the side of my mouth, /I uploaded a bunch of stuff at http://stitchskincomic.com/ during my brief return to the UK and set it away so that it should update once a week for the next year or so. I make no apologies for the quality. I am, more than anythinjg, a trier.)
I've also become slightly infamous for going off on long walks (like, seven hour long walks) and getting completely and utterly drenched in one of the sudden downpours that are common this time of year.
The seccond week I was here I walked to one of the local waterfalls. Having achieved waterfall I scaled a nearby mountain (In truth it's nearer a hill, but we're already a hell of a way above sea level, so it counts). From the peak I had a good view of the tablelands and the endless rolling hills of the great dividing range. The climb down was slightly hairy, compounded by the face that it soon became apparent that the entire area was ridden with spiders. I'm no arachnophobe, but these things freaked the hell out of me. About three inches long with fat, poisonous looking and legs like witch's fingers. Their webs stretched between two tree trunks, roughly level with my face. As soon as I noticed one I noticed another, then anothert, then another, giving me the vaguely disquieting feeling that I was being surrounded.
Australie is, of course, reknowned for the number of nasty little beasties floating around. I've seen numerous snakes since I've got here. The other week I nearly stood on a long tailed brown bastard snake (may not be it's actual name) that I've been reliably informed would have killed me if it had got it into its tiny reptile brain to bite me. I was lucky there, but we haven't completely managed to avoid being a food source. The second day on the job Bob got bitten on the face by some unidentified crkitter which caused his bottom lip to swell up to twice it's usual size. Yesterday it was my turn. I was happily lost in the open mouthed trance I habitually go into while working when it suddenly felt as if someone had opened up my wrist with a razor blade. I yelped like a puppy that has had its tail stepped on. Looking down I saw a puncture wound, round which the flesh was turning puffy and yellow. There are certain thoughts that swirl through your head when you realise that you've been bitten or stung by something while in a locale that is famous for the incredibly venomous nature of its indigenous fauna - none of them happy. In the end it transpired that I'd gotten got by nothing more harmful than a paper wasp, whose sting is incredibly painful but - providing you don't go into anaphylaptic shock - but non lethal.
 |
| Look on it. This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is what a out and out fucker looks like. |
In order to prevent full blown cabin fever, every two weeks a trip is organised to a bar at either Atherton or Mareeba the only two places in the area with more than a dozen residents. We therefore put on our best togs and headed into Atherton. To be honest, it was pretty much what you'd expect from a small club night in a tiny country town. Not much worth reporting happened, save for the fact that we bumped into Korbi - who has had to temporarily leave the lovely Poppy in order to earn some scratch - and Bob nearly got into a fight with some arsehole who decided that his tone was condescending (Apparently this guy is one of those wankers who tries to start a fight with someone every time he gets a drink in him. Here's hoping his next shit's a hedgehog.)
Now that I have access to a computer I'll try and get back to the weekly updates. Not sure what I'll actually write about as there's not a lot of stuff worth reporting going on up here. Expect lots of filler where I regale you with my Babylon 5/Only Fools and Horses slash fic and let you know eactly why it is cows look forward to getting milked.
Oh and many happy returns to Missus Walker, who is again celebrating her twenty first birthday. My present to you is the Withnail and I reference in the post title and a picture of a kitten.
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton.
*If you got the Philip Larkin reference there, congratulations, you get a gold star and a free smacked bottom!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
In Which I Cheat Death Yet Again
I have recently developed a routine of slouching listlessly around, hungry, bored and deeply worried, aimlessly wandering to a random location, sighing deeply and then wandering somewhere else. The work I do for my accommodation doesn't provide much distraction either. This morning I was asked to paint a room which I couldn't get into, using a pot of paint that didn't exist. I would like to say this is unusual, but it really isn't.
However my self pity fuelled moping was rudely interupted by news that me and Bob now have work. Come Sunday, we hop onto a bus bound for somewhere called Mareeba where we shall tend the curved yellow fruit that the aboriginal inhabitants of this land refer to as a "banana". We have been repeatedly told that this is the dirtiest and hardest of all the various harvesting jobs, so hurray - I guess. There was also the initial worry that we'd have to hump the bunches around (average weight: 90kg. Bob's weight in his shoes and socks: 70kg), but apparently the fruit isn't yet ripe so we'll primarily be tying and tethering and whatever other things one does to bananas. Sing them to sleep perhaps? I confidently predict I will be profoundly sick of banana's on a level I can't currently comprehend three months from now.
But it is work. More important yet, it is paid work. This is a relief. I currently spend about half my waking hours fantasising about the food I will buy once I have money in my bank account, once I've indulged in the unbelievably decadent luxuries of doing my laundry and getting a haircut.
Korbi won't be coming with us. He has fallen in love with a girl from the hostel called Poppy. The German method of courtship appears to be pester a girl and keep trying to put the lips on her until she gives up and lets you. This went on till about six in the morning, at a volume that made it impossible for anyone else in the room to get any sleep.
In other news, yesterday was Australia day. Congratulations Australia. Of all the countries I've been to, you are, without doubt, the Australiest.
Monday, January 23, 2012
If You've Got no Money, Honey, We Got Your Disease.
Greetings from Cairns. It is flat and green here. And hot. Oh so very hot. First off, apologies for the lack of updates. This is mainly because I no longer have easy access to free internet and lack the necessary funds to use an internet cafe. In fact there's a lot of things I lack the funds for at the minute, having reached a truly epic level of skintness.
This is down to an inability to find paying work. Me and my companions have had the bad fortune to land in the area at a time when the new fruit picking season has been delayed due to environmental factors. To be fair to ourselves I did ring the Harvest information hotline - a government service designed to help people find agricultural work - at least half a dozen times to research conditions in the area and elsewhere, but they must be some of the most obtuse people I've ever spoken with, giving such great gems of non advice as "Yes, fruit is grown in this area" and "you could try looking for work here, but bear in mind other people will also be looking at the same time". Ultimately staying in Sydney simply wasn't an option so we had to make a move regardless and hope that fortune favoured us upon our arrival. Unfortunately I had forgotten that me and fortune are not on speaking terms at the minute.
I should take this opportunity to say that I like Cairns. I really do. Architecturally there's not much to write about, consisting predominately of boxy, prefabricated structures that have an oddly ephemeral feel about them. But the surrounding environment is gorgeous. The city is surrounded on three sides by rain forested hills and mountains, clouds roll lazily over their peaks. On the fourth side is a very blue sea - though, contrary to what you might expect, no beach. Green is everywhere and the sun is so bright it hurts to go out without covered eyes. The city itself is unashamedly a tourist town. There's any number of opportunities for a young, dumb and full of cum backpacker to enjoy him or herself. That is, there is if you're not flat on your arse broke.
After an initial stay at a place called Gilligans (which Bob keeps referring to as "Gillians", which annoys me far more than it really should), which was basically some sort of backpacker super resort, we found work at a hostel on the edge of the city in exchange for free accommodation and an evening meal. Bob now hands out flyers - though he did do some IT work instead yesterday, Korbi works behind the bar at the hostel, which has about three patrons, while I'm doing general grunt work - painting, weeding, lugging rubbish around, gardening etc. It means there's no immediate prospect of us being made homeless or starving to death and it does seem that it's the best we're going to get until the season changes and we can start making money again.
That said, the travel agent Bob hands out flyers in front of asked me to draw up two chalk signs for them. They seemed pleased with the results and paid me fifty bucks for about seven hours work. Although I've had work puplished etc. before, this is, as far as I can recall, the first time in my life that I have been paid for my work as an artist. So, cool beans there then.
Hopefully when I next write, the situation will have changed and I will have left, or be on my way to leaving, the bread and water diet behind me. And if not - hey! - at least I'll be skinny.
Love and Fishes.
Dave Denton
This is down to an inability to find paying work. Me and my companions have had the bad fortune to land in the area at a time when the new fruit picking season has been delayed due to environmental factors. To be fair to ourselves I did ring the Harvest information hotline - a government service designed to help people find agricultural work - at least half a dozen times to research conditions in the area and elsewhere, but they must be some of the most obtuse people I've ever spoken with, giving such great gems of non advice as "Yes, fruit is grown in this area" and "you could try looking for work here, but bear in mind other people will also be looking at the same time". Ultimately staying in Sydney simply wasn't an option so we had to make a move regardless and hope that fortune favoured us upon our arrival. Unfortunately I had forgotten that me and fortune are not on speaking terms at the minute.
I should take this opportunity to say that I like Cairns. I really do. Architecturally there's not much to write about, consisting predominately of boxy, prefabricated structures that have an oddly ephemeral feel about them. But the surrounding environment is gorgeous. The city is surrounded on three sides by rain forested hills and mountains, clouds roll lazily over their peaks. On the fourth side is a very blue sea - though, contrary to what you might expect, no beach. Green is everywhere and the sun is so bright it hurts to go out without covered eyes. The city itself is unashamedly a tourist town. There's any number of opportunities for a young, dumb and full of cum backpacker to enjoy him or herself. That is, there is if you're not flat on your arse broke.
After an initial stay at a place called Gilligans (which Bob keeps referring to as "Gillians", which annoys me far more than it really should), which was basically some sort of backpacker super resort, we found work at a hostel on the edge of the city in exchange for free accommodation and an evening meal. Bob now hands out flyers - though he did do some IT work instead yesterday, Korbi works behind the bar at the hostel, which has about three patrons, while I'm doing general grunt work - painting, weeding, lugging rubbish around, gardening etc. It means there's no immediate prospect of us being made homeless or starving to death and it does seem that it's the best we're going to get until the season changes and we can start making money again.
That said, the travel agent Bob hands out flyers in front of asked me to draw up two chalk signs for them. They seemed pleased with the results and paid me fifty bucks for about seven hours work. Although I've had work puplished etc. before, this is, as far as I can recall, the first time in my life that I have been paid for my work as an artist. So, cool beans there then.
Hopefully when I next write, the situation will have changed and I will have left, or be on my way to leaving, the bread and water diet behind me. And if not - hey! - at least I'll be skinny.
Love and Fishes.
Dave Denton
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Hello, Goodbye
I am back in the Blue Parrot. Apparently there was talk of banners and balloons and the like upon my return. In the end they didn't bother.
The flight back was unbelievably long, involving four different stopovers, three sets of passport control and a mad dash from one side of Guangzhou airport to the other, making my connection with approximately two and a half minutes to spare. It was interesting flying into Beijing. I've always understood that the country has a problem with pollution, but not that the air above the major cities is like striated milk, with a distinct purple-grey band of smog hovering above the skyline.
Second night me and Bob went out in Surrey Hills with Erin and her mates. Unfortunately due to reasons of poverty and jet lag I skipped out early, leaving Bob to hustle free drinks out of gay guys (apparently).
The lack of money is, of course, something of a situation. Now getting some kind of harvest work is a priority. We were originally looking for work in Victoria or New South Wales, which has the advantage of being close by and a temperate climate. However summer was a bit late kicking off this year, as such there is no work in these areas for a couple of weeks yet. All well and good, but kinda need money now. As a result our search drew us inexorably north to Queensland which appears to be the only place with anything in season. What it does not have, however, is accommodation which is suffice to say, a shitter, as the majority of work going is arranged through the hostels themselves. The only course of action that suggests itself is to hostel in Cairns and search for both work and lodgings while there. I am already sick to my stomach of ringing people and getting a negative reply each time, so I may well be mad by next week. We've also acquired a giant German as Korbi will be travelling with us up with us. Cool beans.
So it's goodbye to Sydney with its lovely beaches, gorgeous parks and slightly bland skyscrapers and it's hello Cairns which features rain and bananananananananas. I've enjoyed my time at the parrot. As far as hostels go it's in many respects fairly bog standard but the people and the atmosphere is great (particular shout out to Jim on the front desk). Don't know when I'll be able to write here again, depending on whether there's free tinternet where we end up.
Love and fishes
Dave
The flight back was unbelievably long, involving four different stopovers, three sets of passport control and a mad dash from one side of Guangzhou airport to the other, making my connection with approximately two and a half minutes to spare. It was interesting flying into Beijing. I've always understood that the country has a problem with pollution, but not that the air above the major cities is like striated milk, with a distinct purple-grey band of smog hovering above the skyline.
Second night me and Bob went out in Surrey Hills with Erin and her mates. Unfortunately due to reasons of poverty and jet lag I skipped out early, leaving Bob to hustle free drinks out of gay guys (apparently).
The lack of money is, of course, something of a situation. Now getting some kind of harvest work is a priority. We were originally looking for work in Victoria or New South Wales, which has the advantage of being close by and a temperate climate. However summer was a bit late kicking off this year, as such there is no work in these areas for a couple of weeks yet. All well and good, but kinda need money now. As a result our search drew us inexorably north to Queensland which appears to be the only place with anything in season. What it does not have, however, is accommodation which is suffice to say, a shitter, as the majority of work going is arranged through the hostels themselves. The only course of action that suggests itself is to hostel in Cairns and search for both work and lodgings while there. I am already sick to my stomach of ringing people and getting a negative reply each time, so I may well be mad by next week. We've also acquired a giant German as Korbi will be travelling with us up with us. Cool beans.
So it's goodbye to Sydney with its lovely beaches, gorgeous parks and slightly bland skyscrapers and it's hello Cairns which features rain and bananananananananas. I've enjoyed my time at the parrot. As far as hostels go it's in many respects fairly bog standard but the people and the atmosphere is great (particular shout out to Jim on the front desk). Don't know when I'll be able to write here again, depending on whether there's free tinternet where we end up.
Love and fishes
Dave
Friday, January 6, 2012
Nothing Really Ends
For those who aren't aware - my mam, Gill Denton, passed away at the end of November. I got the news while waiting for a bus in Coogee beach in the pissing down rain. She went without any prior warning, due to an undiagnosed heart condition, in her own bed. It took me several days to get back home. I had to wait a day in the hostel which may well be the strangest day of my life. I am eternally grateful that Bob was there - who's not only one of my best mates, but -buried deep within his black core- a very good human being.
England was colder than I thought possible. I saw me mam. I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I'm glad I did. I'm not going to go too deeply into everything on a public forum such as this, but -at the the risk of stating the blindingly obvious - I miss her terribly. I can never thank enough those who have helped me and mine through all this, even if it's been something as simple as a kind word.
I wasn't going to come back. My original plan was to find a job in a darkened room that involved pressing buttons periodically. Everyone I spoke to urged me to reconsider this. Eventually I did. Life is short and getting shorter every second. I have spent the past month mourning and do not forsee a time when I won't grieve her passing. But, at the same time, death is a small, shabby thing, compared with the thousand daily miracles that make up life. My mam, lived an astonishingly full life, one worth celebrating, and I am not going to demean her by indulging in misery and obsessing over what is, in the great scheme of things, the least important part of her time on the planet.
So, I'm back in Oz. I am slightly worried about the financial viability of this move, but it feels right to continue to try to get the most of life, even if it's in the slightly inept manner I've employed previously. I'd rather try and fail than not try at all. I've also been urged to continue with this blog. This feels slightly odd, as the intended audience for it can no longer read it. But she did like reading it and I do like writing it (on those occasions where I'm not simply doing it out of a sense of duty). So look forward to exciting updates on two idiots lost in the outback and a thought piece on what stray dog tastes like. I don't imagine I'll be touching on the subject of me mam much from hereon in, I'd prefer to keep my memories and thoughts on the subject to myself, but I will be thinking of her constantly.
England was colder than I thought possible. I saw me mam. I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I'm glad I did. I'm not going to go too deeply into everything on a public forum such as this, but -at the the risk of stating the blindingly obvious - I miss her terribly. I can never thank enough those who have helped me and mine through all this, even if it's been something as simple as a kind word.
I wasn't going to come back. My original plan was to find a job in a darkened room that involved pressing buttons periodically. Everyone I spoke to urged me to reconsider this. Eventually I did. Life is short and getting shorter every second. I have spent the past month mourning and do not forsee a time when I won't grieve her passing. But, at the same time, death is a small, shabby thing, compared with the thousand daily miracles that make up life. My mam, lived an astonishingly full life, one worth celebrating, and I am not going to demean her by indulging in misery and obsessing over what is, in the great scheme of things, the least important part of her time on the planet.
So, I'm back in Oz. I am slightly worried about the financial viability of this move, but it feels right to continue to try to get the most of life, even if it's in the slightly inept manner I've employed previously. I'd rather try and fail than not try at all. I've also been urged to continue with this blog. This feels slightly odd, as the intended audience for it can no longer read it. But she did like reading it and I do like writing it (on those occasions where I'm not simply doing it out of a sense of duty). So look forward to exciting updates on two idiots lost in the outback and a thought piece on what stray dog tastes like. I don't imagine I'll be touching on the subject of me mam much from hereon in, I'd prefer to keep my memories and thoughts on the subject to myself, but I will be thinking of her constantly.
Love you and miss you, yeh daft sod
Love and Fishes
Dave Denton
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