loads of bollocks about dangerous things and neighbours

On my other blog a friend in the UK left a comment asking whether it was true that virtually all wildlife was dangerous in Australia. Well, to put it bluntly, Fuck Yeah! There are all manner of poisonous spiders and snakes. And if you decide to resort to the sea to escape those venomous nasties then be prepared for a different barrage of assault. Rather than being poisoned, your options expand into:

- being stung by a jellyfish
- being nipped by a crab
or
- having your leg bitten off by a shark.

"Ahh!", you say, "...but I'll just paddle instead of swimming, - no sharks gets me!"

Well, I'm a nice person so I'll come and visit you in hospital. It's just been on the news that a bloke got his foot almost severed in a shark attack in just 30cm of water. That's bloody madness isn't it?

Anyhoo, I'm digressing as per usual. Stories of sharks, spiders and snakes are synonymous with Australia so I wont bore you with them. The thing I really wanted to tell you was that this place is so aggressive that even the trees attack you. Yup. The trees. Here's some photos.

[sorry, couldn't find one on the street to take a picture of. Check back if you're really that interested, but honestly, they just look like a dried date]

This is what I call a "Date-stone". I've no idea what it's really called, but to me it looks like a date (as in the fruit thing) and it feels and weighs about the same as a stone. It's rock hard and heavy. And they fall from trees all the time. But generally only as I'm walking under them. If you kick the ones laying on the pavement there's every chance they'll hit a nearby parked car, and dent/scratch the paintwork. Or so I've heard. Honest. I don't kick them anymore...



Now, what the hell is that?! It landed on my head while I was sat out on our patio Friday night. I couldn't believe it. Luckily it hit me at an angle so it just grazed my neck and dazed me. If it had been a full-on blow I'd have been concussed. I've put my foot next to it so you can guesstimate the size of it.




It's bloody colossal and it's made of solid heavy wood! (As tree products generally are). But what the hell is it? The next morning as soon as it was light, I was outside looking for the offending tree. I'd like to say I had an axe in my hand but alas, I didn't. I'd have to cut down the bastard with the saw attachment of my Swiss army knife. (Or would a bread knife be more effective?) None of the trees had a look of guilt or fear so I spared them.....this time.






These are funny. Well, they're not, they're bloody dangerous. Again, I've no idea what they are, but they fall from trees. Those spikey bits are sharp enough to draw blood and they're well 'ard. They are harder than Arnold Schwarznegger. Fossilized cactus would have nothing on these bastards.

The one in the picture is about 1 foot long (approx 30cm) but they seem to come in all sizes, up to this limit. So lots of the bastards are little and easy to stand on when they're lurking in the grass.

The reason I said they're funny is because of where I took this picture - in a childrens play park. Some park designer, that obviously hates kids, has planted them all over the park. The ground is littered with spikey things. Imagine that, when little Jonny falls of the swing, or just falls in general - as kids do.

I know I'm sounding evil for saying it's funny but I'm not. I don't want kids to get impaled on fossilized cactus things - but I can't help sniggering at this mental image I have of a "child-hating park-designer". I suspect that his initial design had some crocodiles in the pond, an electrified fence all round and spikes at the bottom of the slide. When his plan was rejected he probably thought, "Bah! Humbug!.....Aaah! I have a cunning plan!" and just added some extra trees to his design with a glint in his eye. Then he probably ate a puppy or something.
Neighbours - everybody needs good neighbours....

Remember me telling you about our bastard neighbour? Click here to read about it if not. Well, shortly after writing that post I actually went to meet him. I was sat outside on our patio and I could hear that he was pissed and talking loudly on his phone outside. For some reason I felt the urge to go and try to set up a civil relationship with our immediate neighbour. I don't like conflict, so having had a beer or two myself I decided that would be a decent plan.

I wandered over to his patio and he regarded me suspiciously - as he should after his previous rudeness to me. He then grunted "so you're the guy that shares the car park yeah?". I replied that he was correct. He offered me a cigarette and I accepted and then we actually managed to start a civil conversation. The biggest let down for me was right at the start when he said "I work in oil..." (I got quite excited because I've been all over the world working for oilfield clients and know lots about this subject) but then he followed it up with "...massage oils, essential skin oils, and other beauty products"

I was amazed. He was (with respect) the fattest, ugliest bastard I'd seen since arriving here. The only oil he seemed to have was teenage acne type oil (despite being around 40), oozing from every pore. I guess his company don't give staff free treatments. After a few minutes he relaxed totally and fetched me a glass of wine and then started to tell me every boring detail of his job and invited me out with him the following weekend. "Um - we'll see. Come and knock on the door and if I'm in I'll come out with you" was my response. I made a mental note - "Must tell TT that we've got to go out for meal next Saturday - all evening!". He then told me that he was flying to NZ the following morning and would be back in two days.

Guess what?

Well, that was 7 weeks and 2 days ago. Not been seen since. His car is still here (luckily he parked it in his own spot before leaving, rather than across the two spaces) but there has been no sign of him. I suspect that he's dead in his apartment or something. The other neighbours say that until that night he was outside talking on his phone every night. Should I call the police or something? Or should I nick his car and sell it first?

Since then I've introduced my self to the other two neighbours. The one next door to the presumed-dead oil man is Naomi. She's cool. She's about 30 and lives alone. She often shouts hello to me and invites me over for beer. The one next door to her is Jason and he is again, about 30 and lives with his partner (don't know her name) and a new born sprog (Don't know it's name either) Although I've not spoken to him much Jason is also definitely ok, he fetches everyone's bin in from the street on Wednesday mornings. I like it when people perform random acts of kindness like that.

The only problem with Naomi is that at the tender age of 30 she seems to have bronchitis or lung cancer. Every morning she can be heard coughing her guts up, sometimes to the extent of making retching sounds. I've not mentioned it to her of course, but I really think she should see a doctor. I sometimes cough like that but it's generally after a really long session in a really smoke atmosphere. She seems to do it every morning but she's ok in the evenings.

I'll tell you something funny that happened yesterday. I was sat here about this time reading a book and wishing my internet access was working. Suddenly a kid appeared on my patio. He was one of about 12 visiting Naomi. Well, although it sounded like 12 I could only actually see evidence of 3 running around in our shared yard area. But anyhoo, this kid appears, about 6 yrs old I'd guess (I later found out his name was Tyler) and this conversation ensued:

Tyler: "Hello Mister!"

Me: "Hi mate, what's up?"

Tyler: "Do you have a boy?"

Me: [little bewildered] "Er, a boy? Er, what do you mean?"

Tyler: "I want a boy to play with, I don't like playing with girls."

Me: "Oh! I see! Well, I'm a boy if you want to kick around a soccer ball or something?" [see, I can be nice to children]

Tyler: "You're not a boy! You're a dad! And you've got about half grey hair so you must be
nearly a grandad!"

Me: [thinks - go play in the park over the road sunshine, and make sure your shoe laces are undone...]

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. TT pissed herself laughing when I told her about it later. She says the kid was right, I do look old enough to be a grandad. Thanks my love! Kids and partners. Who'd have any of them eh? It's not my fault my hair started going grey when I was about 15. I think it gives me a distinguished look - that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Sorry for lack of post over the last few days, connection has been down. As you can tell though, I'm making up for it! Have a good Tuesday y'all....