Mr. Boots

A friend died today.


I use the word friend because of the effect this news has had on me is unexpected, tear producing and a general feeling of overwhelming grief.

The thing is I have never met this friend or even spoken to this friend. We’ve exchanged a few postcards and until this morning I only knew his parents as ‘the fatties’. Their names where only revealed to me through messages of condolence on Facebook. Yes, this is a Facebook friend.

The power of social media has revealed it more bonding side.  The power to make friends from those you are yet to meet.

I know this is going to sounds daft, but I’m devastated that Barney Boots has passed away after an accident on the farm a few days ago. I know he was a dog on the other side of the planet, from a town I’ve never been too (and unlikely to go to). I know that the character I looked forward to posts from was the human in his life, his adoring Mum, Deb. I really like that woman’s sense of humour.

No matter how down I was, a post of ‘I’ll be outside now’ or I’m up now’ brought a smile to me face.

And those damned giant pumpkins!

I can’t explain to you why this has upset me so much, it’s irrational and some, I’m sure will think ridiculous, but you know what, I cannot control my emotions over this, when I do try snot starts pouring from my nose and water leaks from my eyes.  I feel for the man and woman behind the dog we loved.  Really, I'm having this outpouring of emotion for them.

Has the death of a small brown dog remained me of Muv, John and Cara. All I have lost in the last few years. I know Cara isn’t dead, but the mystery of her disappearance remains. I like to be able to mourn her, but I can’t, I know she’s out there still.

I feel for the Boots family at this time, the devastation of having to make such a hard decision and then having to tell the world, his nearly 5000 online followers.

Deb and Paul, while we didn’t know each other, my thoughts are with you at this terrible time. Grieve your boy Barney and don’t let anyone tell you ‘he was just a dog’.*  We know that isn't true and anyone who says it doesn't understand the unconditional love a dog can give. 

Barney Boots, corgi and farmer, Rest In Peace, in your astral vegetable patch, and may you enjoy an endless supply of bacon, cheese curd and gravy.

*Yes, I’ve been told that many times and I’m sure they will get the same.

 

Picture from here and here...I had nothing to do with it's creation, but it's very pretty don't you think?

I'll be there

In this day and age of instant gratification is it too much to ask that when someone says, ‘I’ll be there’ that you expect them to show up? Of course, these words may be spoken or typed a couple of weeks in advance, therefore delaying the ultimate happiness that will ensue.

I ask this because I have noticed a high instance of behaviour that I do not quiet understand, because I cannot engage in it.

Years ago, I offered to babysit for my sister’s kidlets. This was a big commitment then as I live three buses, two train trips and twenty minutes of walking, away from her. It was in the days before I had my drivers licence. I remember her saying to me, ‘I know I can rely on you, you always do what you say you will.’ She’d been let down by local babysitters before.

Her saying that has stuck with me and to this day, if something is in my diary I will do it. I have to be really ill before I’ll pull out of something. I don’t want to share germ or myself worse. I also don’t want to cause the feeling of disappointment I have often felt.

Last night for instance. There was nothing wrong with me that an early night wouldn’t fix, but I really didn’t want to go to a theatre showing I had committed too. I did go, I ended up really enjoying myself and didn’t get to bed until midnight. Why, though should the other person pay for my lack of planning skills?

‘Cause really, that’s what it comes down to, lack of planning.

I overcommitted myself this week. I have been out every night but Tuesday. I’m out again tonight as well. I can sleep in tomorrow.

Others however, have no compunction about calling to say, ‘sorry, my couch looks really good and Masterchef is on tonight’ or worse, ‘I’ve got a better offer’. Of course, these words are never actually used, but they are the core of it.

So when I say, ‘I’ll be there’, I really mean it. I won’t let you down unless I’m dying.

How funny!?

I’ve been told I’m funny.  Maybe it’s because I can’t contain all that I am in a tiny body I have had to over compensate my whole life but making people laugh.
 
‘She’s got a great personality’.
 
I sure this has been used to describe me when friends have told potential suitors about my pear shape.  In the words of the great Ricky Gervais, ‘I consume more calories than I burn off’, but not massively so, I like to say I’m buxom or cuddly.   This had lead me though, to be reliant on my bubbly self to get ahead in life when it comes to friendships and love.
 
A few years ago, I was working in North Sydney and on a whim, I decided to do a short course under the disguise of ‘continuing professional development’.  Stand-up Comedy.
 
For two Saturdays, I went along and I learnt to write material, then I performed seven minutes of stand-up.  I think it well.  But I didn’t do it again.
 
A couple of years passed.  A friend that had attended my first and only performance, was still so fired up about it that she went off to do a course in Melbourne.  She spent a whole week in Melbourne.  I say she deserve kudos, just for that.  Anyway, she came back and started signing up for open mics and badgering me to start again. 
 
‘Be my comedy buddy!’
 
I caved.  My first (or second if you count the one in 2009) open-mic is on 29th February.  A day that happens only once in every four years.  Unfortunately for you lot, my comedy isn’t something that is a rare occurrence.
 

OuttaTowner

I have had a week of visitors. First my mate WM came to visit from Canberra. We spent a couple of days drinking wine, eating fine food and Dorising* about the place. We took a drive up into the Blue Mountains for a Cream Tea at ‘The Pie in the Sky’ in Bilpin and a bit of sightseeing.

I like to take people up the mountains for a cream tea because it’s by far and away the best cream tea I have ever found outside of Devon. The guy there, makes the scones and jam on site and he uses the best King Island cream. None of that squirty cream out of a can. Real thick luscious cream. I always have a cup of Earl Grey with it and it’s just about as perfect as you can get. WM enjoyed it, and the beef, bacon and cheese pie too.

After lunch we drove along Bells End Line of Road towards Lithgow while WM looked at scenery. After a bit we came across some lovely scenery over to the left and soon pulled of the road into a small gravel car park. It was the car park for Rock Hill View Point.

As neither WM or I were dressed for a bush walk, we both had on flip flops we asked the little old lady who had just returned, ‘Is it very rough?’

‘Oh no,’ she replied, ‘just a little up and down’.

After we’d bee walking across rocks and gravel for about 10 minutes the path took a detour down. The path suddenly was at a 45 degree angle. We very carefully clambered down.

‘That must be the up and down bit’. We said.

It wasn’t. The path did this several times, before we both became convinced that e were going to break something while attempting the path in our Aussie work boots. So we turned around and head back to the car.

We had Cara with us and we decided to video her running up half the hill we climbed up and down.

It was, frankly hilarious, but I think you needed to be there.

We got back to the car, and downed a bottle of water each. It was after all a perfect Mountains day at 28 degrees with about 70% humidity.

We very nearly stopped in for a refuel at the ‘Pie in the Sky’ on the way but resisted.

Cara's YouTube Video

*Dorising = going out and about with no particular purpose except to get out of the house. Just like the oldies, Stan and Doris.

Exit stage right

It’s my last day in the land of the mole. I would like to say that not everyone here has been awful...just the mole.

Bling Bling gave me a very nice leaving gift of a scented candle and a bling bling peacock, which I have called Homer, after the actual peacock that I had a few years ago.

Knitter had a good ole giggle when I demonstrated the noises that CatTV make when they laid the eggs I had just given her.

Mr Benefits and the rest of the office near me enjoyed the truffles I made on the weekend, they ate the calories I cooked and will no doubt be glad when I am gone, because there will no longer be anyone cooking sweet treats in the name of research.

I finished up the couple of documents I had to do, cleaned out my inbox and bequeathed RubberBandBall MkII to Bling Bling and Knitter. It left it at 62mm in diameter; I hope it continues to grow. I buried a small note beneath its layers, it said: ‘A symbol to those left behind, you too, can escape’


As I was coming in from lunch, I saw mole. She smiled, and i hoped it was the last I’ll ever see of her. Some people just bring out the worst in me.

Have fun in my absence.

New Friends, yet to meet

I noticed a while ago that I now have six followers here. This pleases me.

Four of you I know well.

Two of you not at all. I shall ask you a couple of questions, be honest, open up, you’re amongst friends.

I’m curious, how did you stumble across my random ramblings?

Which post inspired you to click the follow button?

Thank you, please leave your responses in the comments ;-)

Seek and you shall find

I don’t have a full time job. As in, I’m a contractor, so not on anyone’s books from a payroll point of view. In the past this has caused issues due to extensive periods of unemployment, but in line with attempt of finding the positives in everything and my new mantra of ‘Mah Na Mah Na’ I have found the silver lining of being a contractor.



I have made many lasting friends.

Goddess, The Director, Tiger, Bling Bling, Knitter, Cat Lady, Pho, and a couple of others I can’t think of witty nicknames for right now. Of course I do have a few other friends that I have met through alternate means: interwebs, friends of friends and talking to strangers.

So despite have moments of desperate financial distress, I have become rich with friendship

Thanks to this site, for the image

Recommendation

I had dinner with a good friend tonight. He came into my life as an employer and boss, so it comes in handy to be able to give his number when I need a reference for a new contract.

Agent: And what would you say is Jodie’s weakness?

PH: She doesn’t like or handle being micro-managed very well. I found it best to give her a task and point her in the direction you wish end up in and you get results better than you expected.

Lawbreaker

I was thinking about this the other day because I've become friends with a policeman. He pretty straight-laced and old fashioned in his thinking unlike my other policewomen friends that are a bit radical with the likeing of the modern music and saying f*ck a lot.

I like the way he thinks though, despite being younger than me, yes that is possible despite the fact I still consider myself to be 18, he listens to classical music in the car, is fanatical about F1 racing, is rather shy, I don’t think I’ve heard him swear and he eats like a horse. He's a big unit, not fat just very tall and fit.

Anyway, back to me, this is my blog after all.

We were talking in the car on the way to somewhere or other and I got to thinking about my criminal history. I don't have one. I have a clean record.

I've never been caught speeding.
I've never tagged a wall.
I've never been in a bar fight, seen loads, but never been in the thick of it.
And apart from the soap I stole when I was eight, which my Muv made me return, I haven't stolen anything.

***

I was in a chemist with Muv and Paul Doba. There was a white wire basket that was filled with bags of coloured soap. Muv was at the counter and as kids tend to do, Paul and I were wandering around smelling stuff. Paul was my best friend and the son of my Muvs bestest buddy, Sue, they lived just down the road from us on Bushy Hill Drive.

Paul and I approached the basket. Each bag had six soaps. Some were white, some pink, purple, orange and blue. They all smelt like grandma. One of the bags was split.

'Go on, I dare you to take one'

Being the youngest of five, and four years younger than my brother and his best friend (Bradley, how I loved you), I was always up for a dare in a bid to be accepted and included. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, oh so very wrong, but I did it anyway. I looked around and as quick as a striking snake I put my hand into the basket and grabbed a soap. It was a white one, it smelt like Nanny Hawkins.

It went straight into my left pocket. I looked up into the air, scuffed my foot into the carpet and tried to look innocent. Apparently it worked. We walked home in near silence. Muv asked us what was up, we denied everything.

As we walked into the garden through the wrought iron gate my already spinning head flipped into overdrive, what was I going to do with my prize?

Through the back gate.

The back door.

I made an excuse to drag behind so I was the last one in. I pulled the now volatile bar of soap from my pocket; the red hot booty burning my palm. As I stepped over the threshold I pretended to trip and slid the soap under the fridge.

No one would ever know about my indiscretion. It was over.

Time passed. I could smell the soap every time I went to the fridge and every time I went through the door. Edger Allen Poe wrote about the feeling of being haunted by your actions in a Tell-Tale Heart, I had no idea who he was at the time, but whenever I read the story I think, soap!

After about a fortnight the cat got a whiff. Jodie started laying on her side, paw extended under the fridge, fishing for something. Muv and Dad thought it might be a mouse, it wouldn't have been the first time. With two cats and a dog, we often had small furries running around, but they never lasted long. I hoped it was a mouse.

It wasn't.

After two days she got it. She pulled the soap out and realising it wasn't anything she could eat decided to make a fuss. A cat that rarely said anything showed her disgust and disappointment by meowing loudly enough to alert everyone in the kitchen.

Muv saw it, a momentary look of confusion then she turned to me.

'Tell me why there's a soap under the fridge?'

It spewed out of my mouth. The whole sordid tale without names, I knew enough to never dobb.

'Tomorrow you'll take it back and apologise'

I cried into the night. I was so scared.

The ten minute walk to the shop the next day was like the long walk. I couldn't walk into chemist and was pushed in by Muv.

I looked up at the Pharmacist, he was so tall, he looked like Vincent Price (I’d seen The Abominable Dr Phibes) in that moment when every other time he'd been so kindly, I took the soap from my pocket and placed it on the counter which was at eye height. I started crying and I said 'so..so...sorry' and ran out of the shop.

I learnt many years later that Muv had rung them and warned them I was coming and they'd had a giggle about it, kids will be kids, kinda stuff.

After that I was always convinced I'd be caught if I committed any kind of anti-social behaviour. I can't help if the shoe elves always slip the lead insoles in just before I drive the car.

Reliably Unreliable

We all have one. Be they a friend, a mate, a buddie or acquaintance, we know if they are invited out they will say, ‘yes, I’ll be there’ with such convincing gusto, that you actually believe, for once, they may actually turn up.

When they call you, email you or text you at the eleventh hour (usually after they have been prompted) they let you down. It will always be an imaginative and creative excuse that rings true, and despite you having doubts, you say, ‘that’s OK, maybe next time’. When they do turn up to something, you are surprised and so happy you forgive the previous let-downs.

I have two such mates. I still invite the first one, but I know she won’t turn up. I know it’s a waste of paper, bandwidth and effort, but in the name of friendship I still make the effort. I’m dangerously close to plonking the second in the same basket.

At what point do you say, enough is enough and give up altogether?

Concert

After my excess musical viewing (48 bands, 69 times) last year I have started this year slowly. I have yet to see any live music action. Tamworth was on the horizon, but I have to work, so no long weekend amongst hunky cowboys and slender drummers for me.

However, yesterday like a bolt of lightning I remembered I have tickets to see Rufus Wainwright soon, Tuesday night in fact.

Who could I take with me?

I racked my brain for people who may have heard of him. Then came the ‘who would appreciate him?’ I came up with a couple of people, I ennie, meenie minie moed, then sent an email. Then I read a few blogs while I waited for a reply.

Turns out the person I invited was already seeing him. But on Wednesday.

Now he’s seeing him twice!

It’s going to be awesome!

Indulgence

A few things have happened recently that have led me down the path of another self indulgent blog post. The last time I put my feelings down I lost a friend, so I would like to clarify that I’m not having a go at anyone, this is my blog and about how I am currently feeling.

Anyway, I’ve been sick. All last weekend was spent in the bathroom, so my mood perfectly matched the weather, grey and stormy. I think this sickness has been brought about by me not getting enough sleep/rest because I am currently working two jobs. My normal 8.30 – 5 office job still happens, but straight after I go off to work until 2am as a receptionist. I get paid a pittance, but because of the Christmas/New Year office shutdown I had a two week enforced holiday and as a contractor I don’t get paid, but I still have to feed Puss. So second job it is. On the nights I am at home, Puss is pis*ed off with me and I hit the hay about 9.

On top of the tiredness I read a friends blog yesterday and it made me cry. He sounds so sad in his writings and I really wanted to be there to give him a hug, even if he would probably say ’Don’t touch me’. He’s alone and I’m alone with only 7500 kilometres and an ocean separating us.

These things came on top of Doughnut dying of tick poisoning and my Mum telling me that she wants to do herself in. Ok, so I know she’s ever the dramatist, but this time I think she really is in enough pain to do it. She lives in Spain and at this moment in time I am in no position, financially, to go to her, slap some sense into her and tell her that the life insurance doesn’t pay out if she tops herself.

I don’t quite know what to do with myself at the moment. Throw myself in the path of more debt and take off to foreign climes to comfort those that need to see me now or continue to grind myself into the floor for a trip that may come too late?

Dogbox

I had to move desk today. I've had a lovely quiet corner for the last sixteen months, but due to my project managers attempt at empire building I've been moved to desk that is a foot smaller, on an aisle and is overlooked. It also happens to be further away from teh colour printer, right next to an old clunky black and white printer and two desks away from a guy who snorts all the time. I mean he hocks it up! It's foul!

I will survive... I hope.

On the plus side, June came round tonight for dinner, catch up and a game or three of Kerplunk!

He's Leaving on A Jetplane

Todd’s gone, I took him to the airport with the assistance of A and Sue-Ellen. We sent him through the customs gate with a sign that said ‘Shirley you’re not leaving!’

His flight is at 3.15pm and he’ll be sitting in his nice Business class seat after being upgraded.

As requested there was no scene at the airport. Well, maybe a minor one from Sue-Ellen.

- One of the many pictures I took during our faux Grauation photoshoot yesterday at Sydney Uni

He's Leaving - Not Yet

This time tomorrow Todd will have walked through the point of no return at the airport in time for his 3.15pm flight to the Los Angeles.

What am I going to do with myself?

- 1 Get a full nights sleep without a 1am phone call telling me he can’t sleep.
- 2 Get an early night or two
- 3 Redefine the meaning of cheap dinner from $60 to $10
- 4 Reduce my alcohol intake and give my liver a rest
- 5 Stop carrying chewing gum in my handbag
- 6 Talk to Puss about books and writing
- 7 Have to find someone else who appreciates the fine dining experience
- 8 Miss him terribly!

But I still have him for one more night, so no moppin’ about and feeling sorry for myself. I’ll deal with the fall out, when it happens.

Meat on A Stick

I had a really long sleep. Puss finally got me moving on Sunday morning with a paw in the face and a meow. He was wasting away clearly. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stopped dead. My legs hurt, my arms and shoulders ached and my boobs felt like they’d been thumped. I hurt all over. That god damn boat trip!

As I walked past the mirror I caught sight of my legs. The gentlemen amongst you please help me by telling me how attractive purple legs are? I suppose i be thankful that I heal quickly. I spent the day on the sofa with Puss, watching telly from the week (House, NCIS and Life on Mars) before getting in the shower and getting ready to go to dinner.

Todd had booked Wildfire for Rachel, him and I. I’d never been before and believing it to be posh I put on a skirt. It was fairly posh…an amazing fit-out with unique lights and private rooms above. We had a nice spot looking out over the Opera House. But I got the feeling it was more about the tourist than the local. We were one of the few tables that seemed to have made an effort when getting ready and many looked they had just pooped in after a day of the tourist trail. The prices kept out the true riffraff.

The food was amazing, as was the wine and the desserts. It was another evening of chatting and we all came to the conclusion that not enough people experience fine dining as a form of entertainment. To most people eating is something you have to do to survive, so it is not something that should be the only thing you do all night. We arrived at six and left just before ten. It was a beautiful evening.

I got the bus home, Todd and Rachel went for final coffee.

(photos to come)

Harbour Cruise - My Bruised Arse

Saturday morning saw me making melba toasts (cut up bread, place on baking sheet in 200O oven until crisp) for Todd’s harbour cruise while I waited for the real estate guy to come round and do a house inspection. Far too much to deal with a Saturday morning if you want my opinion!

Around noon I left the house with my new red shopping trolley loaded with pate, melba toasts, wine, ice and my camera. I was going to get the bus, but after waiting twenty minutes I jumped in a cab. Once again the taxi won the Taxi V Bus race. I met Todd and some friends at King Street Wharf and we waited for the boat.

Now please bear in mind I was expecting something big and stable to CRUISE around the harbour in. You can imagine my surprise when a sail boat slipped into the pick up position. We all climbed aboard, and settled in as we motored out into the harbour under the bridge. It was actually very relaxing and I took heaps of photos to remember the day, Todd eating nibbles, drinking wine and generally being the hostess with the mostest.

We (there were 11 of us on the boat and the skipper) drank, laughed and chatted. Some of us reminisced about the bad habits we had picked up from Todd and some just listened and thanked their lucky stars they hadn’t known him long enough to pick them up. We stopped and put down the anchor and a few went for a swim. I was happy on board taking pictures.

Once the swimming was over the skipper suggested we go for a little sail. He informed us that because it was a little windy we would only use the little sail at the front. The anchor was pulled up, the sail was unwrapped. It flapped about for a bit then it caught. We took off like a bullet from a gun and the boat tipped. From 0 -15knots (17mph/27kph) like a racing car.

I slipped of my perch, thinking first and for most about the camera I flipped my right arm over the edge of the galley as my legs vanished over the edge of the boat and into the water. My left hand grabbed onto anything (turned out to be a rope winder), my legs bounced about on the edge of the boat as I pulled myself up and finally got a foothold on the little wooden plinth on the side. I wasn’t near anyone, so I didn’t have help like a couple of others that also experienced the pleasures of sailing. I’m told it only took a few minutes to right us again, but it felt like an hour. I was soaked. The only dry thing about me was my camera hand.


The rest of the ‘cruise’ I hardly moved. As the saying goes ‘It’s all good fun until someone get hurt, then it’s bloody hilarious’ I was the butt of jokes. But weirdly enough I didn’t care. If we tipped again I was secure and oddly I was having fun. The adrenaline had kicked in and I was what can only be described as high.

I was however, really glad to be back on dry land when it was over. If it hadn’t of been over dramatic I would have kissed the ground. I went home to shower before our dinner to find a few purple masses gathering under the skin on my legs and arms.

Dinner at IThai on King Street Wharf was lovely, more reminiscing, good food and wine and an early night for all. After the drama of the boat I think everyone was completely knackered.

Six Sleeps

After all day running a workshop I got home at six. I had plans to be a good girl and type up my Uni essay about Gerald Murnane, watch NCIS and sleep. Then I got a phone call.

‘I’ve run out of peanut butter and I can’t have a bottle of wine for dinner AGAIN, what are you buying me for dinner?’

It was Todd. With a jolt I realized, this time (6.30pm) next week he would be on a plane back to the States, for good.

What can I say, I’m weak. ‘I’ll see you on the corner of Crown and Cleveland at 7’

At 6.58 I received a text message, ‘Holy Crap. Drinks Expensive.’ I guessed I was late, standing at the traffic lights to the agreed destination.

After a quick pre-dinner drink we walked along Crown Street. The pizza place smelt good, the Vietnamese didn’t take Amex. The bottle shop did well, and CowBirdFish saw us sat at a table for two with corkage.

Despite me having made no effort and wearing lesbian shoes (flat sandals) and Todd in a sleeveless t-shirt that expressed affiliation with a sport team (I think) we were treated as if we were royalty. We had oysters to start ‘The special is freshly shucked oysters from South Australia.’ ‘SOLD!’ Barramundi and Salmon for main and cheese and meringue for dessert. Is it really only Tuesday?

We chatted about the usual and not so usual sh*t. Boys, books, boats, the movie ‘Airplane’, mountains and driving while we ate and drank a daft amount for a school night. Red, dessert and port. The waiters were really nice. Maybe they realized they were going to get a 30% tip early on, or maybe they were feeling generous.

- The Empty Chair

After two final glasses of port we adjourned to a less civilized establishment for a final drink of the evening. It was only half nine and the night was young, time for one more. JD&dietCoke for me, VodkaTonic&lime for him. Just the one. One AM, maybe.

It reminded me of when we first met. Working at TheBank, two oddballs in a bunch of suits. One straight as a die girlie with terrible fashion sense and a talent for making scrabbled egg in the microwave and one corporate suit that had long ago learnt to play the game. He, an unusually smart American (compared to others I had met) that had a knack of being in the right place at the right time, she a married Brit not reaching her true potential. Many a Thursday evening was spent in bars talking, having ‘just the one’ (one AM) and soon she (me) realized, I could take the bus!

I did take the bus, he’s taking a jet plane in less than seven days. I’ve been drinking since seven pm, give me a break and indulge me while reminisce about my friend who is pissing off and leaving me, It’ll all be over soon and normal broadcasting with resume, but bear with while it does, please.

Our Nations Capital

Last weekend Todd and I took a drive down to Canberra. He’s leaving in less than a month and he hadn’t seen Parliament House except on telly. So we piled into the car armed with nothing except our cameras and drove the three hours from Sydney to that no mans land that is our nations capital.

- The Big Arse Merino in Goulburn

We had a Stop Revive Survive moment at Goulburn so Todd could have his phot taken with the Big Marino. Which by the way they have moved. It’s now by the eateries and petrol station on the right, next to the freeway. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard of it. We took a couple of pictures, but got back in the car quick sharpish ‘cause it was freezing! The wind was howling and we were in shirt sleeves with no jumper or jackets in the car. Little did we know at that time, but we spent the whole day dashing from the car to the picture spot and back again.

We stopped at the end Lake George to take pretty pictures of how green it is at the moment (rarely has water in it).
We stopped at the state boarder for a photo shoot with Todd riding the sign.

- Ride It Cowboy!

When we got to Canberra we went straight to heart of it. Parliament House! I stopped were he told me too and within seconds we were being moved on by Federal Police on a push bike. But we got the photos we came for (a few we didn’t) so we left and moved to the next thing. The Birdie on a stick. Actually the American/Australian monument it really is a big bird on a very long/high pole. Todd had to lie on the floor to get it all in, I just told him to get a better camera.

- Move Along please sir!
- The Birdie on a Stick with Todd in the foreground

Then we drove round the inner ring road a few times before moving onto have a look at the Sex Shops of Fyshwick. We’d heard they were good. Turns out there are a lot of them, but not all of them are good.

On the way out of Canberra we stopped at a winery. We tasted (he swallowed, I spat) several very nice wines, both red and white, chatted with the cellar door staff then purchased half a dozen before hitting the road home.

With the light on our side we drove north again. We decided to stop and have dinner in Sutton Forest. We had steak and chips. I had a cup of hot tea and Todd had wine. We were both bloody freezing! We both had a great day, we laughed so hard that snot came out of my nose (I had a cold), we ate McDonalds, we talked crap, we talked about serious stuff and we dared to touch our toes to the wicket that Don Bradman played.

- Last time he tried this he got chucked off for playing silly buggers ;-)

12 sleeps to go.

Position Vacant

JOB TITLE:Gay Best Friend
DATE REQUIRED:21st November 2007
REPORTS TO: The Management
DEPT: Fashion and Fuck Buddy Finder
SUPERVISES:Nil

JOB SUMMARY
Due to the resignation as of the 21st November of the incumbent, Todd, this high level and prestigious position has become vacant.
It requires attention to detail due to the closeness of the working relationship. It can be full on, as well as quite at times. You will be required to be a good cultural conversationalist, shoulder to cry on, a drinking partner, a dating and fashion adviser, a plus one and other duties as required.

REPORTING RELATIONSHIPS
There will no direct report in this role, however you may be occasionally called upon to assist with other friends’ fashion and dating misfortunes

DUTIES & ESSENTIAL JOB FUNCTIONS
1. Concert and gig attendance, occasionally throws underwear on stage.
2. Fashion advice and the ability to say; ‘I never want to see you wearing that thing again!’
3. The drinking of the wine and the making of cosmopolitans
4. Be able to discuss interesting books, such as Kafka and shit like that (crime novels and science fiction don’t count).
5. Must appreciate my homemade chicken liver and mushroom pate, but not bug me to make it all the time.
6. Must be able to think of and plan expensive day trips.
7. Willing to attend Star Wars on Ice and other ridiculously boring British theatrical crap.
8. Must be fit and very good looking (FYI… no actual Gay applicant would find this in the least offensive)
9. Must be able to talk about yourself at length and repeatedly to the exclusion of others. But know when to stop and at least pretend to be interested in those around you (if only to pause and think of something else to say about yourself).
10. Must be able to instantaneously come up with ridiculous, yet fun ideas, such as New Year’s resolutions to stalk famous people

OTHER FUNCTIONS AND RESPONSIBILITIES
You must be open and honest at all times. If you think something is a bad idea you must say so. The management will not hold it against you. If you think the management has made a bad fashion decision that morning you must say so. This also applies to hairstyles, make up jewellery and men. Especially men. Did I mention men?

QUALIFICATIONS
· A BA/BSc or higher qualification as the ability to converse is a must.
· The candidate would be able to instruct Management on how to suck a freight train off its rails
· The candidate would ideally have a solid track record with successful one night stands

REQUIRED
· Must read books that occasionally require a dictionary to look up big words
· Must know the difference between a wine that comes from a cardboard box and a bottle
· Must live within a 1kms radius of Surry Hills

PREFERRED


REQUIRED LICENSES/CERTIFICATIONS


PHYSICAL REQUIREMENTS/WORK ENVIRONMENT
A fit and healthy person is required for this position as the hours may be odd at times. There will be late nights and early mornings. There will also be brunch in cafes about town so the ability to sit on uncomfortable and wobbly stools a must.

Todd will be available for a hand over until the 21st November, at which time he is returning to the United States to live. He has offered to assist with the handover only if the candidate is willing to sleep with him exactly twice.