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?

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!

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.

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

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