My mother has always had an expectation of me that I have never been able to live up to... Being a girly girl. Sadly for her I was a tomboy. Always have been, always will be. Though I reflect now: Is it time I was a girly girl? I've had a few dreams in my sleep lately where I have been in surroundings of pink or in a group with other girls mucking around and giggling. I discovered a website called hellogiggles.com which I spent nearly all of Saturday evening being glued to. It was very girly with blogs of girls in the same generation as myself with everything from cute craft ideas to reflections of their own childhoods. I found myself watching PopAsia on SBS waiting for the female popstars coming on with their glitzy, girly video clips. "Top Girl" by G_NA being my favourite. What the hell is happening to me? I have always felt slightly envious of girls that are comfortable wearing dresses everyday and matching outfits with cute shoes. Their nails and hair done impeccably. I get by with owning a handbag dog who has a bling collar. My childhood pink bedroom unchanged as an adult with posters of cute animals, stuffed toys, dolls and fairies scattered about the place. I have a rule for myself that once year... at least... I must wear a dress. For 2012 I've already obeyed that rule and wore a white dress with a sparkly, silver trim and sparkly, silver peep-toe ballet flats, carrying a glass-beaded clutch to a dinner party. Unlike my mother would, no one made a fuss but did comment that they were surprised to see me in a dress all the same. I think what may have sparked my anti-girliness was of course... my mother. I don't mean to sound like I am running her down but she really does misunderstand me at times. Whilst recovering from two operations at my Nanna's when I was 10, my mother visited an op-shop (opportunity shop or rag trade shop). When I went up to visit her and Nanna during the school holidays she excitedly told me that she had bought something for me. "When I saw it I straight away thought of you". She pulled it out of a bag and revealed it. A fluorescent pink, layered, white polka-dotted skirt. When she saw it she thought of something she'd like me to wear but not something that I actually would. The skirt horrified me and I told her so. She was devastated. She had raised me in dresses and pig tails. A little girl that older women would think was cute. By the time I was 5 years old I was in scruffy clothes and head to toe with dirt. And it's stayed that way to this day. I'm still scruffy. Holes in my workshirts and rips in my jeans. I come out of the cattle yards looking like I've rolled around in the dirt but there's a satisfaction to it. A hard days work could be seen and felt and there was nothing better than watching all the dust wash off in the shower at the end of the day. I don't get that sitting behind a desk answering phones. Yet there's still that little need in me that needs to glam up and feel feminine. A ball was held on the weekend and I spent Friday and Saturday tossing up whether I wanted to go or not. If certain friends were going to go I had one condition for myself about going. I had to be the Belle of the Ball. I wanted a certain look, certain hair, certain dress. I didn't end up going. The cost of being glam and girly would hurt the bank account way too much. It was a whimsical notion left to sit with the others at the back of my brain... neglected. I wear the odd pink workshirt to work and get regular comments from people who are shocked to see that it's a girl that has just jumped out of the concrete truck. People blown away that me, as a girl and a small one at that, does the job that I do. Shock sometimes is followed by "So you're truck is an auto then?" Certainly not. It's a synchro gearbox by the way. When coming to town I wasn't interested in a retail or admin job. My first cold calls were to a roadworks business and the local quarry. Despite my mild discontent with my job I couldn't imagine myself in any other here in town and to that extent I don't think I will ever be girl enough.
This is the place I grew up. This is the place I will always call home. During school holidays I would play with the kids in my street in the scrub that surrounded my house. That scrub's all gone now. It's been replaced with houses. On my first day back on KI after a year I shake my head at the "progress". All chasing the tourist dollar. They thought it was alright to tear down a century-old house to make way for hideous up-market apartments that look like a bunch of cardboard boxes all jammed together. They forget that amongst the nature is a rich history carved out by many characters and that if it wasn't for them KI wouldn't be what it is today. A few local artists are doing their best to revive some of the old stories that have shaped the main street. KI's most renowned artist, Jenny Clapson, has painted a mural depicting the Cook family. It took her a years research to create the depiction of the antics, adventures and milestones of the Cooks (they were the first people on KI to own a television). It takes pride of place inside the Fine Art Gallery, of one of the new galleries which was once the family's residence. Jenny Clapson's daughter was featured in this weeks local newspaper. She says "When you grow up in a place you tend to take it for granted". I couldn't have said it better myself. I've only just begun to appreciate what I was constantly surrounded with 12 years ago. Dad and I drove out to Emu Ridge Eucalyptus. My only intention before arriving was to purchase a large bottle of Eucalyptus Oil for a friend. I ended up spending $75 on a whole bunch of other Eucalyptus orientated stuff as well. Then I had the thought "Oh, while we are out here can we go to the Honey Farm?" So off we went so I could mung out on honey ice cream at Cliffords Honey Farm. I bought some jars of the different kinds of honey* and some gifts for a friend who is about to have a baby. But here's another bit of the "Chase of the Tourist" dollar. The Cliffords have been plying their trade to tourists and locals alike for as long as I can remember but someone else doesn't mind cutting their grass. They've created a new establishment on the edge of town selling similar honey products but without the charm. They aren't surrounded by nature and hives, just bitumen and the relocated rural agency. Yet with a main road exposure I wonder how many tourists actually bother to go out to the Cliffords anymore? The next stop was Island Pure, the Sheep Milk Dairy. Dad had suggested we buy some Haloumi for Christmas Day and the lady gave us some samples to try so I also bought a block of Manchego too. Can't drive all that way just for one type of cheese! But my touristy day didn't stop there. Dad also drove me out to Reeves Point** to see the new boat ramp (which users now have to pay for but I wonder how many actually do) and the new playground, toilets and revamped picnic area. On the way back up the hill towards town some locals were scavenging in the low tide for crabs and perriwinkles. Some men had obviously been diving for their catch whatever it may be, dripping with water in thier wetsuits while carrying tubs of seafood. Summers of my childhood were spent doing the same thing. We'd sit on the big rocks by the wharf picking off perriwinkles to eat. We'd go down to one of the beaches to look for crabs under the small rocks that had been smoothed out by years of waves crashing against them. The crabs we left alone. We just liked to find them and watch them scuttle for cover after we'd exposed them. Dad drove past the town pool. It's a tidal man-made rock pool that had 5 year olds petrified of swimming in it. We would get told horror stories of Blue-Ringed Octupus' grabbing hold of our legs while we swam and grabbing hold of a rock and not letting go till we drowned and no one would find us at the bottom of the murky pool. Then the shark eggs would hatch and we'd get eaten by a Great White and get digested into shark poo. All these stories from the older kids would get told to us, of course, right before compulsary swimming lessons began at the start of the school year. I wonder if that has something to do with the fact that I never learnt to swim properly, too scared a Blue-Ring might get me? Christmas was spent at my sisters. My eldest brother came with his girlfriend. I'd never met her before and I hadn't seen him in 3 years either. My brother-in-law's younger brother was there too. We spent Christmas Eve at my sisters place and finished it off at the pub. Last drinks were called when we arrived at the first pub. Couldn't even bribe the bar staff for a drink! Caught up with a couple of old school friends though. So then as one pub closed we headed to the other where I caught up with more friends till Wayne started whinging that he smelt like lavender and his shoulder hurt. Well that's what you get for jumping in a lavender bush and completely missing it. He blames me for daring him! I got to spend the day with my sister on the Wednesday. She works for Natural Resource Management and it's her job to help along rare and endangered plant species. I invited myself along to work with her and we drove out to Macgillivray to pick seeds off the side of the road. Her love for native plants had her wrapping stocking socks all over one plant determined to get every seed that bush produced. And then picking random seeds quite simply because she liked them. Once she showed herself some restraint from seed picking we went out to Cygnet River where she worked to store the new seeds and transplant 250 seedlings of two different species. It was kind of relaxing picking seeds and transplanting seedlings and I can see why my sister enjoys it so much. Thursday night of my week home we once again invaded my sister's place. My brother didn't want to miss out on pizza night so it got moved from the regular Friday night to Thursday night. I was glad because otherwise I would have missed it too. And then 10 minutes before 6pm my step-sister rang up my sister to invite herself around for dinner. My last day was the Friday. I was so not interested in leaving. Dad and I drove out to Vivonne Bay so I could go to just one more gallery and then we went around and checked out the bay itself. Dad showed me where we used to camp. It's been fenced off now so no one can camp there anymore. I enjoyed the sea spray at Point Ellen as the waves crashed against the big rocks. We had a quick walk down the beach*** where a dog and his human friend enjoyed the water. We had lunch from the general store and a sticky beak around the township where we got to see everyones shacks had been replaced with fancy pants holiday houses. A quick nip into Little Sahara where the tourists enjoyed sandboarding on their hired boards where back in the day we used whatever we coud find. An esky lid perhaps? I am not one for walking far especially in dry sand so I made sure we didn't stay too long. Then back into town we went so I could slowly and miserably pack my bags to go back to the mainland again. I swear it was so much harder this time than most times I've left as an adult. There's something drawing me back. Is it the sea? Is it my Dad and sister and her family? Is it the environment? Or is it just because I call the place home? Halfway to the airport I realised I had forgotten my phone charger so after Dad dropped me off he raced back home to get it. But before he even could get back they announced the boarding of my flight. I missed out on saying goodbye to my Dad all because I had left my charger in the kitchen. I was nearly in tears. My landing on the mainland had me crying too as a distraught message was left by my mother on my message bank. I rang her back and before she would tell me what was wrong she insisted I catch up with my brother while we were both in Adelaide. Then finally she told me. Our precious Tina Puppy had to be put down after it was discovered that she had advanced liver cancer. Mum had had to say goodbye to her four-legged daughter. What a way to end the year. I got to spend that night and the next day with my mother-in-law (Mandy) and father-in-law and see Lacey's eldest daughter, Ethel, all grown up. I got to meet Mandy's horse, Jasper, and even to got have a walk around on him. He was so quiet and kind natured and willing to please. And he was very cuddly too, a big sook! My brother and his girlfriend picked me up in the afternoon so I got to catch up with them and my nephew and we went round to my Uncle Garry's and Aunty Shirley's. I haven't had a proper catch up with them for nearly 6 years. Slack me! So it was very good to see them again. And I got to see my cousins Stacey and Josh at the same time. But after a week of enjoying being back in SA it was time to go back to the NT and back to reality. I really felt like "missing" the plane. I really felt like going to my mum's to be there for her but that little bit of "sensible" in the back of my brain told me to get my butt on the plane and save up to come home another time. Bloody adult reasoning!
*[Ligurian Bees produce different flavours of honey depending on where they are getting their pollen from. David places hives around certain native trees which in turn affects the products taste eg: Hives around a Sugar Gum will create a very saccharine taste. There is also Stringy Bark flavour and Mallee Gum flavour available at Cliffords Honey Farm. The bee is originally Italian but now KI has the only pure strain of the Ligurian Bee in the world. They are also quite a docile bee and less inclined to sting.] **[Reeves Point was the place of South Australia's official landing and first settlement in 1836. A Mulberry Tree was planted to commemorate the occassion which still grows to this day 175 years later. It still produces Mulberries too and they're picked each year to produce jam. Never been lucky enough to try the jam myself!] ***[Vivonne Bay was voted Australia's Best Beach by Sydney University's Professor Andrew Short in 2003 after evaluating 10,000 beaches nationwide.]
Christmas approaches once more. All presents have been bought and wrapped. All but two. One is a combined effort between my mother and I and one I am painstakingly cross-stitching for my Nanna so it's guarunteed to be late. All christmas cards have been sent off but two. I've spent plenty of money posting presents off at the post office and spent long periods of time in the parcel queue like the rest of the towns population. We're gearing up for the Christmas shut down at work by cleaning up everything and getting it all in order ready for the new year while still pouring plenty of concrete. But as the holidays fall in the Wet Season it comes as no surprise the adventures I have had to endure just to get to and from home every weekend. Weekend before last I didn't believe for one second the station had as little rain as Damian said there had been as I skidded to a halt at a 90 degree angle to the driveway in the mud. We spent all of Saturday putting out lick supplement for the cattle all over the property. A whole tonne on the station toyota and half a tonne on mine each time... till I got a puncture in the wall of my tyre. I ignored it till I got the lick bag off then drove back out onto the road to change the tyre. Couldn't crack the wheel nuts, it seemed like they'd rusted there. Went to go grab the jack, it wasn't there. That's when I remembered that months ago I had put my jack in Damian's ute after his went mysteriously missing and never took it back out again. So, there I was, in the heat of the day, with a flat tyre, no way of changing it, at the back of the station. It took Damian 40 minutes (I timed him because I had nothing better to do) to realise I hadn't come back and that perhaps I wasn't taking photos of random things like he thought I would be. I slept on the plastic off the top of the lick bag under the toyota in the shade. Pity the ground was so stinking hot. When Damian arrived the tyre was changed in less than five minutes and I took my poor Bruiser back to the house where I said he was staying till it was time to go back to town. I will not risk any more punctures! At least Sunday was somewhat of a day off. But while running out all the lick I decided that Christmas wasn't Christmas without a tree. So I cut down a Lancewood tree which Damian looks at and tries to inform me "That won't fit in the house". My usual response? I'll make it bloody fit. After nearly taking out the ceiling fan getting it into the living area (what is it with me and ceiling fans lately?) I filled a tin bucket with sand, stood the tree in it then decorated it with what minimal Christmas decorations I had. Didn't look too bad if I do say so myself even if it does look a little bare. Last weekend was fine. I relaxed, we moved the bore trailer so we could pump the house tank and made another small attempt at finishing the garden shed. And it rained all weekend and it was beautiful! I went out into the cooler paddock and backlined Capone, my bull and while giving him scratches and cuddles Charger raised his head and noticed me in the paddock. So with his head high he cantered over like he was king of the station then paraded around with his neck arched, showing off with his usual proud-cut granduer. A little while later Diamond came over in a steady trot to say g'day. I had to disappoint them both, I hadn't brought any feed with me. So then when they discovered that they didn't want to know me. The driveway after a weekend of rain was a hell raiser on the way back to town. Slipping in mud despite being in High 4 had me sliding backwards while facing the way I had just come. I got to the aboriginal lands to find the creek had come up and I was not game to cross it without first getting the opinion of Damian so I took some photos and headed the 20km back home... sliding into a small tree on the way there. He followed me back to the creek and waded in to then give me the all clear. "Low Range..." "Well, der, you know, coz I was gonna roar through it in High Two..." "Not too many revs or something something blah blah..." So off I went, low range, steady steady till I got to the other side. After shouting goodbyes at one another from opposite sides of the creek I kept going back to the highway and he turned around and went home. I didn't get very far till I discovered that the next creek was up too. I roared backwards, honking the horn, wanting the all clear for this creek too. I got out and waved and jumped around and honked the horn and watched him in the distance deliberating whether to come back and help or keep going. Eventually he made up his mind and.... kept going. Wanker! If I perish out here it's all his fault! In the end there was nothing to stress about because the second creek was the same in condition to the first. But after all that I finally got to the highway where I unlocked my hubs. It took me two hours from the time I initially set off for town to when I got to the bitumen. One hour and twenty minutes too long! It won't be long before my regular trips back home will make the driveway impassable. As long as I can get in I don't care if I can't get back out. But it will do well in annoying the neighbours :o/ Meh, apparently she doesn't mind being flooded in...!
Week in, week out. Concrete to pour and boredom to deal with. Sometimes the tedium got so bad that we were fighting over the most menial jobs at work just to keep occupied. The boss returned from a bush job and things got quieter. Then this week happened. One 3am start to travel over 300km to a station to pour a shed floor. Normal day Tuesday. 5:30am on Wednesday to pour kerbing 200km away. Knock off for me wasn't till 9pm after a veeery long day trying to keep the concrete wet enough to pour it. Today was a 5am start but better than yesterday. Concrete was wetter and the day wasn't as near as long but when I returned to the yard I was greeted with a little note saying "TRB wants concrete onsite at 5:30am, start 5am :o)" Smiley face my butt! Seriously, I need a break! I wanted to be able to start at a normal time tomorrow. No catch up on much needed sleep for me. At least last weekend was spent actually doing something I enjoy. I finally got back in the cattle yards for the first time since September. I drove up to the Douglas Daly to arrive just in time for the Development Committee dinner where I caught up with friends and other people I hadn't seen for a while and also met some new people. Despite my exhaustion from the drive and working all day I didn't get to roll out my swag till about 1am to get some sleep for a 6am start in the yards. But that's fine... because I was BACK IN THE YARDS! The second day was all over the place. First up it was dropping fences and setting up gates, then finally process some more cattle. After smoko I got sent out to set up gates and push up the tail with Doug in the chopper in a beat up Hilux reminiscent of my Bonalbo days (ironic that) as well as try and stand up a fence buried under half a foot of mud. My attempts to pull it up had Doug flying over wondering why I had no shirt on. Well, you know, lateral thinking, make the most of what you have around you. No chain? No rope? Use your shirt! ... It ripped. I am down one work shirt. It seems that this particular week was full of me doing dumb and senseless things. Not thinking before doing or in the following instance being to lazy to do something with interesting consequences. As part of a Facebook group I belong to we had decided to do a Secret Santa where we didn't buy something for the recipient but make it instead. After changing my mind three times I finally decided on making a patchwork quilt. I sewed and sewed for weeks then finally I came close to finishing. So close that I was determined to complete it in one night. So there I was, climbing onto a dining chair looking up at the ceiling fan telling myself "Don't get hit by the fan" because I was too lazy to walk over to the dial only 3 metres away to turn it off. I'm standing there, on the dining table, shaking the quilt down over the wadding when WHACK! I get hit by the ceiling fan. I recoiled in pain on top of the quilt in disbelief that I got hit... believe it or not. When reality kicked in I realised I could be bleeding and to get off the bloody quilt. Bloody it was. So was the tea towel I used to stop my head from bleeding. I took a short break and sat on the couch where I just began laughing at myself. As my Dad said only I could turn quilting into a dangerous craft. After bandaging my head I got on with the job, washed out the blood as best as I could and finished for the night. The next morning after having a second crack at washing out the blood I dried the quilt, wrapped it wrapping paper and later in the day posted it off to its recipient, mild blood stain and all. It's obvious that I seriously need a break. The brain isn't working properly, the body can barely carry itself. I pine for Providence and get devastated each time I pass the turn off to head home. Oh, the monotony!
Wednesday was a crazy day. It was all over the place. We didn't get any calls for concrete till 11am so we spent the rest of the day moping about trying to look for things to do. When I finally decided to clean my truck, the boss pulls in and says I can knock off whenever I want. It was only 1:30pm! I had only had lunch half an hour ago. Whatever. 'At least if I leave work I will be occupied', I thought, so that's when I decided to make an impromptu trip to one of the stations I have day-worked on. When I pulled in no one was around. The purpose of this trip was to pick up a dog. In particular a dog for Damian. I decided long ago that part of his Christmas present this year will be a dog since he's always whinging and griping that all the dogs have all been mine. He won't be able to say that now! I brought a bag of working dog food with me in exchange for the pup which I then sat on for nearly an hour waiting for my friends to come back to the homestead after the days work had finished. I was just about to give up and organise an alternative means of transport for the pup when I heard a toyota rattling down the driveway. And didn't I scare the life out of Mal! Only Kylie was expecting me and that wasn't till tomorrow! The initial pup I chose was sadly not available due to crossed wires but that's fine because the alternative is as sweet as pie. His name is Lightening! The couple loaned me one of their dog cages since they were a bit concerned the pup would go about his business on the backseat of Damian's rodeo. And too right they were because the moment Lightening went in the cage he relieved himself. Mal tied down the cage for me and pumped up my slowly leaking tyre. After chatting for a while I headed off to my old stomping ground. Time was running out when I drove in to the town. I had a CWA meeting at 5:30pm and it was already 4:30pm. Me and my big ideas! I'd be pushing it to make it on time. I showed my friend, Sarah, the pup and her verdict went along the lines of "Awww, he's so cute!", no opinion on Damian's potential reaction. Next stop was the pub to show Warren. He just laughed in his less-than-sober state that Damian will now be regularly visiting him so that they can go pig hunting together. Not on my watch! But I hope that was all he was laughing at. I lead-footed it all the way back to town at I don't know what speed because the speedo doesn't work in the rodeo. But I got there in about less than 45mins. It's 105km between the two towns so I'll leave the maths to someone else! Only 15mins late to CWA. I had one of my friends young daughter check on Lightening halfway through the meeting to make sure he was okay. When the meeting ended I headed back to the town house where Lightening got an introduction to Yum Yum. It took a good half hour for the two to see eye to eye but soon they were lying on the tiles together like they had been friends forever. I tricked Lightening into being tied up since he'd previously only known cages and when he realised he was tied up, that's when the barking started after I had gone to bed. Afraid of keeping the whole neighbourhood awake I unclipped him and let him have the yard to himself since old Spencer was tied up due to the new addition and Yum Yum sleeps inside. I checked on him twice before I went to bed, just to make sure he was okay and he (as far as I could see because it was dark) was behaving beautifully, even when Spence did try and assert her authority. To this point, all signs have shown me he will be an intensely loyal dog especially since he has come up to me with a smile on his face. The working week went by as slow as a snail on valium. Friday came and finally it was time to take Lightening to the vets for vaccinations. I had already had to re-book an appointment twice with the vet over the last two days to then be left to rock up near on closing time with the uncertainty of even being seen. Thankfully the vet was quite obliging and happy to see this sook-eyed pup. He behaved so beautifully as everything over the last three days has been quite a shock to him. After the vets it was another leadfooted drive home to the station with the dog in the cage. When I pulled up at the house paddock gate I put a big red ribbon on Lightenings' collar and prepared myself to face the fact that I may have to spend the weekend standing between the dog and the gun. Lightening doesn't lead so I picked him up and when I got to the edge of the house, hidden by various bits of outdoor furniture, I asked Damian who was smoking on the verandah "Are you ready for the first half of your Christmas present?". I gingerly stepped up the stairs to reveal to Damian his new pup. I didn't receive anger, I didn't receive a guilt trip, I received a sigh of disbelief "A dog?". "Well, you are always complaining that every dog has always been mine so now you have your own!" It didn't take long for Damian to warm up to Lightening but it also didn't take long for me to warm down. Trying to learn his place in his new family, Lightening had a go at Lacey who had been placed on the top of the outdoor table for introductions. If he makes a habit of this it will be Damian standing between the dog and the gun! But punishment for his behaviour followed which momentarily divided Damian and I. Lightening had another two go's at Lacey on Saturday but by Sunday they were right as rain though Lacey was still reluctant to be around him and was cautious when she was. Not only with the official arrival of Lightening, this weekend was the most happiest return to Providence I've had since I first begun my stint in town. I had many moments which brang a wide smile to my face from cuddling up to Capone whilst getting headbutted by him to riding my horse through a mob of soundly sleeping poddies to playing with Lacey and Lightening to shifting the chooks at midnight to their ignored enclosure for fear of Lightening making a meal out of them. The chooks in their pen did not last long and when the sun rose, so did they to the top of the shade cloth and free to the outside world after a bit of sea-sawing in between. Saturday was spent mowing the lawn on the ride-on, waving at Damian who sat on the front verandah each lap because I'm a dag like that and going on a water run. It was so good seeing all the paddocks lush with fresh green grass, even around the troughs and seeing all the fat, rolly polly calves dance and buck about between drinks from their healthy mothers. Even a cow that had a year old weaner sucking off her looked like she was holding her weight well. This time of year is usually nasty on cattle and their condition so it was a welcome sight to see them all doing so well. A vast contrast from every other property I've been on over the last 7 years during the Build-Up. The early rains have been quite a blessing. The rest of Saturday was spent doing laundry including a desperate dash to pull all the dry clothes and linen off the line when the sound of rain hit the tin roof to only stop the moment I got inside with the laundry basket. I started off Sunday gathering motivation to trim Charger's feet. My back was already killing me from driving trucks with seats that couldn't go all the way forward and shovelling aggragate. I prepared feeds for Charger and Diamond (the horse who wouldn't be found who is now finally found) and got down to trimming Charger's front, offside foot with the nippers. He didn't make things any easier for me by swishing his head around every ten seconds to shoo away buffalo flies. I was angry at myself that I didn't think to treat him before I got stuck into doing his feet. Nevertheless I got on with it. Nippers done, time for the rasp. I really need an old-man-stand for this part of the job so I gave up doing it the orthodox way and did it a way that I had to learn due to dealing with a very difficult horse. In this instance, instead of bring the foot forward, you kept the hoof between your knees with your back toward the front of the horse. Everything this way (my way) is done purely on feel and generally for me has come out with the same result and I also find it a little easier. But still, I want an old-man-stand. Hint! Hint! After finishing Charger's front feet and letting him polish off his breakfast I put a bridle on him, lined him up alongside a feed trough and hoisted myself up onto his back. Halfway up he decided that I didn't require anymore patience from him and he started to walk off. Anyone who has seen me try and get on bareback knows how awkward it looks and due to my lack of coordination I can't pull him up when he walks off like that (something I need to improve on!) so I just hung in there with my right foot resting on his rump as he lumbered along with me wiggling around till I'm finally sitting correctly on his back. 200 metres later and I had got to my destination, the gate. I got off (not near as awkward for me) and let him go through the gates. And he just stood there. He wants pats? Gave him pats and cuddles. He wants the flies shood away? Shood the flies away. Still standing there. Maybe just my company? Nup. Hmmm. To be back with Diamond? Sook me opens the gate back up and he walks through it back into the house paddock. "He knows he'll get fed if he gets to stay in here," Damian-often-the-voice-of-reason. Whatever, your problem now! Hehehe! The rest of my Sunday was spent relaxing, getting a start on my Secret Santa gift for a group I am part of on Facebook and reading my Stephen Fry novel. Oh, and of course sleeping. But four o' clock came round all too fast and after checking the car over and getting the usual grilling from Damian for NOT regularly checking the car over I made my unwanted journey back to town with less of a leadfoot. At least when I arrived back at the townhouse I was greeted by four wonderful women who were celebrating two of their birthdays. Maybe this week won't be so bad? Maybe.
Last week on Hot100FM a discussion arose about a potential lion on the loose after someone in Darwin supposedly saw one crossing the road at Pinelands which made the paper. I decided to add my two cents to the discussion by texting in to the hotline "I'm Teagan. Maybe the lion escaped from Tipperary Station when Warren Anderson lost the place a few years ago". I got no response over the radio so thought nothing of it... Till this morning. An incoming call from an unknown number came on my phone so I answered it "Teagan Speaking". Voice: Hi, this is Joel from Hot100. You sent in a text last week? Me: Holy S**t! Yeah, um, I did. Joel: Awesome. Was just wondering, you know our morning quiz battle of the suburbs? Oh my gosh! I'm going to be on the radio. I willingly accepted the challenge to represent Katherine against Anthony from Leanyer. After being put on hold a number of times finally we were on the air. This was Anthony's third day competing. The first question asked was "How big is the croc on the front page of the NT News? We both sat there in deafening silence. "We're on live air here people!" prompted Joel so Anthony chipped in "Leanyer! 4.8 metres?" Wrong! My opportunity to get the answer right. "5.6 metres?" Wrong! Back to Anthony. "5 metres?" Ding ding! Second question. Why was the coach of the Manly Sea Eagles sacked? How on earth am I supposed to know that! "Leanyer! Something, something, something along the lines of a right answer?" Ding ding! So at this point I've lost because it's the best out of three but Joel asked the third question regardless. "Who recently quit the Oscars?" and of course the response was "Leanyer! Eddie Murphy?" Ding ding! Well, there goes my 15 seconds of Australian fame! Despite saying nothing more than a greeting and "5.6 metres" I still scored a Domino's Pizza voucher. I felt like an absolute knob but it gave me an opportunity to have a good laugh at myself and made my day a little bit more bearable. So for all Top Enders out there with radio service, don't be afraid to compete in the "Battle of the Suburbs" on Hot100. You can't make yourself look more like an idiot than I did!
The working week was slow. Unbeleivably slow! Our average was 2 loads of concrete a day. But Friday I got to drive the new water truck to the weighbridge. Wasn't that scary! It was an automatic. Still had to put the clutch in to take off and stop but not to change gears. Every gear change could be felt and heard like someone was really changing the gears themself but it was all the trucks doing! It was like it had a ghost changing gears and I was sitting in HIS drivers seat steering. Even going down gears it gave that little rev to get the gears synchronised! Friday evening was spent having dinner at the RSL with the woman I live with turning all heads in the bistro while showing off her new heels. I met some interesting new people one of which had the sorry job of welding concrete bowls together back in England before he migrated to Australia. The other an extremely tall Canadian that couldn't understand a word any of us said. I suppose the Territory Scrawl could be hard to understand sometimes! An old friend who I hadn't seen in two years also appeared and we had a good chat after his absence from the area. Our conversation regarding the gift of a dog got everyone thinking that we were talking about something pornographic and me having a massive giggling fit may have confirmed that. But no, the topic was of a dog. Just thought I might clear that up. I tried to spend Saturday lazing around but no, it was time to get ready for the party. We shopped for food and arranged furniture in the backyard. I got creative and decorated the garage area with party lights. I made up little, colourful signs that each had a translation of the word 'toilet' and stuck them all over the outside bathroom door. And made a few more around the record player for the word 'music'. Well, it is International Night after all. Got to get into the spirit of things. Mary arrived in the afternoon and while cooking her traditional dish of 'Sop Sop' from the Torres Straight Islands we sat chatting in the kitchen while smell of coconut permeated around the house. Velda had already made Spaghetti Bolognaise and when Kerrie arrived, she got started on Chocolate Fondue for dessert. By the time everyone arrived and sat down to eat we had mini meat party pies (Australia), fried rice and fried noodles (the Philipines), an Indian dip with Papadams, potato bake, salads, pork. Oh, if you went hungry you were an idiot! Dessert was of course Fondue, Scottish Mint Custard, Pavlova, Custard Ginger Pears, Fruit Salad. Time to undo the top button I think and bloat! Rose brang round her karoke machine and a brave few stepped up to the mike. I sang 'Achy Breaky Heart' really badly with a giggling fit half way through because Mary made me hold the microphone. Yes, that's all it takes! I also sang 'Proud Mary' with her which didn't seem to go too badly but to get through it I needed a Pina Colada... so I stole Mary's... till I poured my own. Only a handful of others got up to sing, some very reluctantly. I guess that's what happens when the machine is set up right by the door. No passing till you've sung a song. As the evening wore on and people began to leave we noticed something had gone horribly wrong. One of the dogs had at some point buggered off into the night. So we all went out there searching for her. Calling her name, checking the house again and again. I got in my car and drove around the corner into the next street up and there she was, scampering across the road in my headlights. I managed to catch her, the outside world making her wary of every object and everything that moved and chucked her in the back seat till I had her back home and the gates shut! Cheeky thing. She has never in her life done that before. But as much as I loved the party and the company, I almost couldn't wait for everyone to leave and go home so I could go to bed. I'm turning into a Nanna! But my social weekend wasn't all met with happiness. Damian was ropable that I had decided due to lack of funds that I couldn't afford to come home as usual for the weekend. We broke out into an argument over the phone with me in the middle of the supermarket over the price of a brake caliper and my interest in knowing exactly how much rain we had out there. After swearing and carrying on at each other I hung up. A few hours later he rang to tell me one of my chooks had died from a feral cat attack and also that we had 4mm at home (I win). Another few hours later he rang to ask how to cook rib bones in the oven. All emotional war wounds healed. At least next weekend I will be home for its entirity but not sure how he is going to take the news about the weekend after...
