Evil and Giant Flies of Doom

Honestly, you head down to the beach, have a little surf with Watson, return to the safety of your chairs and towels only to be attacked by what can only be described as evil and giant flies of doom.  If you're going to get bitten at the beach when you've got a surfboard and a wetsuit you would assume it would be a shark doing the biting.  I'm not saying I want to be bitten by a shark.  I'm not saying these evil and giant flies of doom were anywhere close to shark-like.  I'm just saying.  As soon as we were out of the water these evil and giant flies of doom were on us.  And then they were biting us.  Or stinging us.  Or doing something.  They were inflicting boo boos that made the three of us - Bear Z, Rabby and myself, start leaping around like peculiar tourists.  From a distance you probably couldn't see the flies.  You could just see three people leaping around and running in circles.  But what else can you do when faced with this kind of behaviour.  We made tracks pretty fast after that and expected to leave the evil and giant flies of doom behind.  But no.  They followed us.  The followed us down the path and back into the car park.  And they were biting the whole time.  Do you know how hard it is to swat a fly off your leg when you're carrying an 8ft surfboard - I mean Watson - and have a wetsuit draped over your shoulder.  It's not easy.  Easy it is not.  I should have kept the wetsuit on for protection.  It got the point where we were running for car, trying desperately to make sure they didn't follow us into the car, just to get away from them.  They were evil.  They're probably continuing to be evil.  In all my time at that beach I've never met such evil and giant flies of doom.

Little Stalky's Freaky Arms

I've known for a while that I have freaky arms.  What I didn't know is that my parents were unaware that I have freaky arms.  I thought of all the people they would have been the ones to know that I have freaky arms.  I thought that maybe one of them had freaky arms and it was inherited.  I thought I must have exhibited freaky arm behaviour as a child.  But no.  Bear Z and Rabby discovered the true nature of my freaky arms when it came up in conversation at a cocktail bar.  How did this come up in conversation?  I have no idea.  One minute we're drinking wine and the next minute I'm demonstrating the true nature of my freaky arms.  Look mum!  I'm bendy.  And I'm sure you're wondering why my arms are freaky.  What is it, Little Stalky, that makes your arms freaky.  Do you have a bearded arm?  Is your arm ridiculously strong?  Can your arm be fired from a cannon?  No!  This is not circus stuff people.  This is just your run of the mill freaky arms.  A party trick, if you will.  Imagine this.  Stretch both arms out in front of you and touch the backs of your hands together.  Now, with the backs of your hands touching, get your elbows to touch.  I can almost guarantee that you won't be able to do it unless you too have freaky arms.  I've only met one other person in the whole entire Stalky world who can do this with her arms and she lives in England.  It freaks people out, touching your elbows like that.  Then people actually start to examine my arms and realise that yes, my arms are possibly a little bit of a funny shape. Bent in an odd way.  Bumpy, lumpy.  Freaky.  I have freaky arms.  I'm pretty sure that both Bear Z and Rabby were freaked out by my freaky arms but I was freaked out by the fact that for 26 years, neither of them knew about my freaky arms.  I've had freaky arms for as long as I can remember.  The only question that remains unanswered is how I discovered this party trick in the first place!  Or more importantly,  how did I take this photo of myself?  Freaky indeed.  

Meet Watson

Surf instructing dude hanging out
with the Watson - I'm somewhere
attached to the leg rope

I mentioned a while ago that I tried surfing for the very first time.  Well now it seems that I'm a fully fledged surfer!  Not really, I can't even stand up properly.  But I do now own my own wetsuit and more importantly my own Watson, I mean surfboard.  Yes everyone, I have a surfboard and I named him Watson.  I'm not really sure what the inspiration was for the name.  Maybe it was the fact that we'd just been watching an episode of Sherlock.  Maybe it was because Wilson was too obvious.  Maybe it doesn't matter.  Maybe it's just plain weird that I feel the need to name inanimate objects.  Either way, Watson is now Watson and is subsequently introduced to fellow surfers as Watson.  Watson hit me on the head the other day but I forgave him because he's Watson.  I'm pretty sure both Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin see Watson as less of a surfboard and more of a Watson.  The only time I didn't introduce Watson as Watson was when we had a surf lesson on the weekend.  I really didn't want the surf instructors to think I was some kind of fruit loop.  I merely announced that I had brought my own surfboard as I wanted to get used to my own board.  And my, did Watson ever get some compliments.  Watson got so many compliments that I was immediately ashamed that I had not introduced him as Watson.  He was getting so much attention.  A beauty of a board!  A nice bit of kit.  Well waxed!  I had to confess that Mystical Roo had done the waxing and not I.  I then had to confess that Mystical Roo had selected the surfboard and not I.  I can simply take credit for the naming of the Watson, for which I did not take any credit because I didn't tell them that I'd named him Watson.  Oh Watson, the adventures we shall have.  Watson is an 8ft softboard (handy when it smacks you in the face).  He's white and has two blue racing stripes.  Those are his go faster stripes.  He has a blue leg rope and matches my blue and black wetsuit.  Watson and I take style very seriously.  Watson and I have been out on the waves a few times now and I actually think I'm seeing progress.  The surf lesson was an excellent decision and - even though it was blowing a gale and pouring with rain (it's meant to be summer!!!) - we learnt a hell of a lot.  This is the mantra that now runs through my head - ahem - paddle, paddle, paddle, WAVE, paddle three more times, push up, turn the leg,  shift the other leg forward, head up, attempt to stand.  I can sort of stand but certainly not for any length of time.  I'm not as good as Monster Noggin or Mystical Roo.  But I hope to be almost as good one day.  Did you know that Mystical Roo is now so good that he can summon dolphins.  Oh yes, Mystical Roo has been surfing with the dolphins.  And the most frustrating thing?  It was only about five minutes after Monster Noggin and I left the sea in search of warm towels.  That'll teach us for searching for warm towels.

Finding Driftwood

The hunt for driftwood continued on a much sunnier day as we decided to return to the beach.  This was the beach as you would imagine the beach in Australia - white sand, blue water, hot sunshine.  No raging rivers of brown water.  No rain.  No dead blue bottles.  Also no tennis balls.  And alas, no driftwood.  Someone had obviously done a good job of cleaning up the beach.  Flag darnit.  But we were not discouraged.  Instead we moved on to the next beach.  The beach next door.  The current beach's next door neighbour.  This is a much quieter beach and on approach almost appears to be a desert island.  Almost.  For a second you can imagine Tom Hanks ambling along and yelling at Wilson.  In keeping with the desert island feel this beach had a much more promising collection of driftwood.  In fact, when we reached the end of the beach we found not one but two very handsome pieces of driftwood.  They were immediately snaffled and subsequently dragged along the beach.  Typical that the driftwood would be acquired at the furthest point of our walk.  But as we were walking back, another piece of driftwood caught my eye.  The mother of all driftwood.  A beast.  A twisted piece of wood that wouldn't have looked out of place in the hand a beardy wizard surrounded by hobbits.  I pounced on that piece of driftwood and claimed it for my own.  So three pieces of driftwood.  One for each of us.  Mystical Roo was at work doing sensible, grown up, work type stuff.  The rest of us were out collecting driftwood.  For our Christmas collection.  Oh yes.  So now I can hear you wondering what we did with all of this marvellous driftwood.  Well, firstly we tried to get all of the sand off and out of it.  Then we lugged them upstairs and had a very important meeting about how best to use the driftwood.  And this is what we did.  I used my massive bit of driftwood to create an Australian style Christmas tree.  That is, we leant it against the wall and wrapped fairy lights around it.  But doesn't it look pretty?  Modern, Australian and rather festive.  I love it and have already decided that even after Christmas, that bit of wood will be a feature of the household.  Since it's introduction to the  house it has acquired some "cones" and a bit of leaf.  It's very stylish.  As for the other two bits of driftwood, well we used them to create a kind of driftwood ladder.  A rope ladder that as Bear Z has reminded us on a number of occasions, is not to be climbed.  We saw one in a shop down the road for $90 and decided that we could do better.  Which we did.  Which we have.  Check out the rope ladder!  It's primary purpose is for the holding of Christmas cards.  Look, there's one on there already.  And some dried chillies.  Because they look cool.  Again, I can see this rope ladder becoming a major part of the household.  It just looks so funky.  Driftwood is so in right now.  I'm a fashion forward Stalky.

Searching for Driftwood

Sunny Australia 

I'm not sure which came first - the decision to go hunting for driftwood or the decision to go walking in the rain.  I have a feeling it was the latter.  For reasons unknown, on a wet and blustery Saturday morning, Bear Z, Rabby and myself decided to go for a walk on the beach.  Mystical Roo - by far the most sensible member of the group - opted out of this adventure.  The rest of us waterproofed ourselves up and headed out sans umbrella.  There's something strangely entertaining about walking in stormy weather.  The wind was howling, the rain was hammering down and the sea was in a frenzy.  It was brown from where all the sand had been churned up and the waves were chopping and changing all over the place.  Still, there were body boarders out in the surf.  There were lifeguards holed up in the surf club.  There were land dwelling sharks lurking behind rocks.  And there was the three of us ambling across the sand not looking at all like tourists.  I had my trusty leopard print wellingtons on so how could I possibly be mistaken for a tourist.  There was a huge line of dead blue bottles washed up along the shore and - randomly - a number of tennis balls.  They looked to be brand new so we did what any other storm wanderer would do.  We snaffled them.  Better snaffle them then have them float out to sea.  It may have been the snaffling of tennis balls that led to the attempted snaffling of driftwood.  We decided that a bit of driftwood would make an excellent Christmas card displayer.  That's if I get any Christmas cards of course.  Once I had a hold of this idea I insisted that we find driftwood.  But storm or no there wasn't a whole lot of driftwood to be found.  We headed towards where the "stream" meets the sea to see if any had washed up on shore.  The "stream" had turned into a full flowing river and was cutting away nice chunks of sand.  But yes, there was driftwood.  And it was drifting down stream.  There was also a body boarder.  He too was drifting down stream.  And into the sea.  He seemed pleased to have an audience.  We spotted a rather sizeable bit of driftwood making its way towards us but it went straight out to sea.  The waves however, were accommodating and sent that sizeable bit of driftwood straight back towards shore.  But it disappeared back into the river.  At one point it got lodged in a bit of sand and Rabby made a dash for it.  He only just dragged it back to shore before a wave swept in.  That could have been one wet Rabby.  Unfortunately it turned out to be a really burnt bit of driftwood.  Not the driftwood I had in mind.  We left the beach soggy but up by two tennis balls.  Alas there was no appropriate driftwood to be found.  The search for the driftwood continues.

One Lovely Blog Award

Thank you to Gene Pool Diva for showing some love to Little Stalky World.  Both I, Little Stalky, and my weird world are very flattered.

In the spirit of things I would like to share with you my top five blogs:

http://magnonsmeanderings.blogspot.com/

http://carouseldreams-tina.blogspot.com/

http://thekoalabearwriter.blogspot.com/

http://chrissypeebles.blogspot.com/

http://indiesnippets.blogspot.com/

Little Stalky's Turtle

It's a turtle!

I am by no means an artist.  I find it fascinating watching someone bring a canvas to life and know that I could never achieve the same results.  If I start drawing then everything is out of proportion, upside down, inside out and the wrong way round.  Small children can draw better than I.  But artist or not that didn't stop me from trying my hand at some Aboriginal style art.  I figured if there was anything I might be able to do with a paint brush and a canvas it would be dots.  In preparation for our visitors I wanted to create some art to go in the guest room.  The attached photo is the finished product.  My turtle.  I had no idea what I was doing, I didn't know what it was going to look like but I was actually quite pleased.  What a fluke!  I literally just grabbed the canvas, grabbed the paints and sat on the floor deciding that a turtle would be the easiest shape for me to tackle.  I found an old lid from a bucket that had been turned into a plant pot and used it as a pallet and then off I went.  About an hour later I had my very own piece of Stalky style art.  It now has pride of place in the guest bedroom.  Now I'm wondering what else I can paint.  The plant pots are the front runners at the moment but if Mystical Roo sits still too long he may find himself with a temporary tattoo of the Stalky variety....

Little Stalky Gets a New Watering Can

I recently invested in a new watering can.  I know - it's an exciting life I lead.  But with my ever growing collection of plants I thought a new watering can was necessary.  Nay, essential!  I had been using my two little green watering cans but they were simply too small.  I was having to make numerous trips between the kitchen sink and the balcony just to ensure the plant babies got their fill.  We don't have an outdoor tap so there was much hurrying back and forth.  Anyway, to get to the point, I now have a nice big 10 litre watering can.  It has a detachable nozzle thing and everything.  Now it's all well and good having a nice big 10 litre watering can but those things can be hard to control.  Things can get out of hand.  Trying to control 10 litres of water when you have small hands and wrists and arms and are generally quite small can be difficult at times.  Water sends to slosh all over the place.  Where previously I was able to aim water quite directly at the soil I now pour much more erratically.  Water sloshes over the leaves, over the pots, over the floor, over me, over the balcony.  Over the balcony is probably the key thing here.  Because over the balcony there are often other people.  Those hairdresser types that hang out below the flat.  They're often down there.  And they have such beautiful hair.  You can just imagine it.  One of them innocently hanging out some towels to dry and then taken out by a massive splash of water.  Hair destroyed in the prime of its style.  The horror.  And when they look up they'll realise it's not raining.  They'll see water dripping from the balcony.  They'll see my massive tomato plants peeking their heads out through the railings.  And then they'll realise it was me.  The girl that lives upstairs.  So when I did absent mindedly slosh water - a lot of water - over the side of the balcony and realised there could well have been someone down there I took immediate action.  I ran away.  And confessed to Mystical Roo what I had done.  Mystical Roo, wise as always, told me that I was a bad Stalky and that I must be sure to check in future.  Well I'll try but I can't guarantee anything.  I can be a bit scatty at times and easily distracted.  It's hard work taking care of plant babies, looking out for evil, horned caterpillars of doom all the while keeping on guard for attacks from Will the pigeon.  I don't think I can be held responsible for persons who may or may not get a watering.  Honestly, who let me loose with a watering can.

Little Stalky Goes Shabby Chic

I'm always on the look out for a bargain and with a couple of VIPs headed our way I thought I'd kit out the spare room with a few things.  One of the things we wanted was a chest of drawers so when someone at work said they were getting rid of a set I jumped at the opportunity to take them off their hands.  I had no idea what they looked like but I figured they'd be good for something.  So Mystical Roo, the ute and I went and collected these chest of drawers.  They were of decent size, white gloss paint with horrible handles designed for kids.  We decided we would sand that beast down, get ourselves some new handles and create a "shabby chic" look that's all the rage at the moment.  I penned a date to head into the warehouse, accompanied Mystical Roo to said warehouse and then realised I'd left the chest of drawers at home.  Doh!  I then had to return to collect the drawers, stopping off to collect Ammy as the muscle.  Once the drawers were loaded onto the back of the ute I promptly headed over to Bunnings (like B&Q) for new handles and some sand paper.  Coarse sand paper. I did a lot of poking to make sure I got sufficiently coarse sandpaper.  But I also avoided the sand paper that indicated I would need goggles, mask and - really random - ear protection.  Whoever heard of noisy sand paper.  Not I!  Any hoo I returned to the warehouse where Mystical Roo helped to trim my handles to the appropriate length.  Then I set about sanding the chest of drawers.  Obviously I had totally underestimated the amount of muscle required to sand down a chest of drawers by hand.  It's not easy people!  Not easy at all.  It takes a long time and you get a sore back and everything.  The side bits are fairly easy but the top, covered in gloss paint, was a mission.  I even got out a little chisel at one point to give my "shabby chic" look a helping hand.  It was hard work, it took all day and by the end of it both me and the dog were covered in white dust.  But I wasn't half pleased with the results.  And so was Mystical Roo.  We had achieved our "shabby chic" look and a new chest of drawers, all for the price of a new set of handles and some sandpaper.  Not bad, even if I do say so myself.

Surfing Stalky

Last weekend I succumbed to peer pressure and took to the waves on a massive surf board.  Ok, there wasn't that much peer pressure but I was a little nervous.  Waves are big and scary and have a tendency to send me tumbling.  But on Sunday the skies were blue, the sun was shining and Monster Noggin very kindly leant me her wetsuit and her surfboard so that I could give it a go and see what I thought.  My main thought was how very much I felt like a teletubby whilst wearing the wetsuit.  My second though was how annoying the teletubby theme tune is.  My third thought was how difficult it was to get the teletubby theme tune out of my head.  Then I focused on the task at hand.  The board was massive.  The board continues to be massive.  But it's the ideal size for a learner and is soft so that it doesn't matter so much if you head butt it.  Which I did.  The board started it!  Anyway, Mystical Roo was my guide and he led me into the water where I immediately got scared.  But I only went out chest deep and was able to catch the waves from a place where I didn't have to go out of my depth.  Mystical Roo showed me how to lay on the board, how to sit on the board and how to paddle to catch a wave.  Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle.  There was a lot of paddling.  My balance was a bit squiffy and on more than one occasion I tumbled off to the side before getting anywhere.  I was thrown from that board so many times but it's nowhere near as scary as when you get thrown off the body board.  I guess it's because the board itself doesn't flip with you.  It just bounces off in the opposite direction as you're flung through the air.  At one time I very much felt like a super hero as the board flew backwards and I flew forward, landing with a splat in the water.  I only got bashed on the head once and it really wasn't that bad.  I can confirm that I actually love surfing.  I didn't manage to stand up properly but I think I will.  At some point.  I need to work on my fitness levels because after two hours in the water I was absolutely wrecked.  Not only that, I continued to suffer for about three days after the surf.  Aching shoulders, sore arms and stomach muscles.  I guess surfing will be one way to keep me fit.  So now I've decided that I want my own wetsuit and my own surfboard.  The wetsuit arrived today and I've already been to collect it from the post office.  Now we just need to find me a surfboard. Woo surfing Stalky!

The Gas Leak

Over the weekend, me and the gang - or rather the gang and me - set about moving furniture from Ammy and Treacle's flat to what will now be Ammy and Treacle's house.  We've done a fair few moves in our time here in Australia and as always I try my best to be helpful but more often than not just get in the way.  I did offer vague assistance with the moving of a fridge (no tiny skateboard this time) but was relieved when Monster Noggin arrived to help maneuver the thing up some stairs.  I'm not known for my strength, coordination or balance so moving a massive fridge is not really on my list of skills.  But this isn't about the fridge.  This isn't even really about furniture at all.  This is about gas.  And I'm not talking dried apricots.  Actual don't-light-a-match style gas.  We'd all caught a whiff of the gas in the corridor by the flat but hadn't thought that much of it because Ammy said she'd smelt the gas before and reported it to the estate agents.  We continued moving furniture, going up and down in the lift, back and forth in the car and we continued to smell the gas.  We even joked at one point that it was the gas that was making us all giggly and weird.  It wasn't that kind of gas either.  It just so happens that we're all giggly and weird.  So when we'd finished moving we forgot about the gas.  Mystical Roo, Monster Noggin and I decided to hit the beach for a surf.  Monster Noggin had a new wetsuit to break in, Mystical Roo is officially addicted to surfing and I had a book that needed reading.  So when we drove past the flat we were intrigued to see the presence of a fire engine and about four firemen lurking outside.  We all exchanged knowing nods.  It was the gas!  Whilst we were out at the beach, Treacle returned to the flat to lock up and pumped the firemen for information.  Apparently someone else - not us - had moved out about a week ago and knocked a gas tap or something on the way out.  Gas had just been pumping out for about a week.  So we really had been smelling a gas leak!  The moral of this story?  Never trust gas.  Gas, in its various forms, is rarely a good thing.  If something smells funky - blame it on the gas!

The Lizard Groweth

I've previously made mention of the lizard who lives in reception.  We think he works for management as he spends a lot of time in their office.  Anyway, the lizard hasn't been seen for a while.  Months in fact.  But the lizard made himself well and truly known on Friday afternoon.  A new member of staff was doing the hoovering, dragging around the hoover of doom and then came in to announce that a massive lizard had just appeared.  The lizard wizard!  Why we hadn't seem him in so long.  But evidently he's been living in reception all this time...and eating a lot of something.  Because  the lizard has grown somewhat since we last saw him.  Maybe that's why we don't have an issue with flies.  Maybe that's why the biscuit barrel depletes at a speedy rate.  The lizard has been gorging and the lizard has been growing.  He disappeared under a desk and we tried to lure him out but the lizard was having none of it.  We'd obviously disturbed him with the hoover and he'd popped out to make his presence known.  Then he scarpered.  So the lizard still lives in reception.  The lizard continues to lurk.  But will he continue to grow?  Will we eventually be faced with a dinosaur like lizard.  Watch this space!

International Trolley Dude Code

There have been a number of Trolley Dude spottings of late.  He's back and badder than ever.  Trolley Dude totally has his groove back.  There's no sign of any other Trolley Dude imposters, Trolley Dude isn't hiding under hats or skulking around.  Trolley Dude has his crown back and he's loving it.  He's been on top form, chasing after trolleys, whipping them into line and basically putting on a show for all to see.  I'd even go so far as to say Trolley Dude has been doing Trolley Stunts.  He's been riding the trolleys.  Setting the trolleys off on a roll and the clambering atop them.  Balancing on the trolleys.  He's telling the world that he is the trolley master. Now we're all too nervous to actually approach Trolley Dude but we've developed a code to let each other know that Trolley Dude has been spotted.  We can silently acknowledge a Trolley Dude sighting and in turn show our appreciation for the Trolley Dude that none of us can talk to.  It's a hand gesture, one you might see at a rock concert.  Or a Trolley Dude convention.  Make a fist, extend index finger and pinky, rotate wrist from side to side and silently think "duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude".  That is the Trolley Dude code.  What I like to think of as the international Trolley Dude code.  When one stumbles across a Trolley Dude it's important to follow the code.  Every time I see my Trolley Dude (yes I've claimed him) I use the sign.  I tell the world that I've seen the Trolley Dude.  Those who know the code - Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin - will return the gesture.  They'll acknowledge Trolley Dude in all his Trolley Dude glory.  It's an art. 

Little Stalky's Spring Garden

I thought it was about time we had a garden update.  I know you'll all be wondering otherwise.  Oh, Little Stalky, what's happening with the garden.  Oh, Little Stalky, is everything still alive?  Well yes.  Things are looking good.  And as it's a beautiful day today I thought it would be a good time to take a picture.  Especially seeing as how my last photograph was taken in the rain.  You'll notice this photo is actually of good quality.  The reason?  I used Mystical Roo's actual camera, rather than my dodgy camera phone, and it had hand stabilising technology.  Handy.  Tee hee.  Any hoo, check it out.  Little Stalky's spring garden.  The mint has recently been chopped back as Rabby suggested it was a good addition to the compost.  Minty fresh compost.  Yeah.  But mint grows like anything so he'll be back to his bushy self soon enough.  The thyme has flowered this year and it actually seems much healthier for it.  It's less woody than before and seems fuller.  Good work, thyme.  You'll be surprised to hear that the coriander (touch wood) is still very much alive.  I've been poking him daily to check the moisture levels in his soil and watering him accordingly.  I guess we'll just have to see how he does when the really hot weather arrives.  The rosemary is loving his new pot.  He's been upgraded to a white bucket and seems to be growing bigger because of it.  I've learnt that he does not appreciate too much water and after adjustments to his schedule, seems to be thriving.  The chilli plant isn't up to much as yet but you know he'll be doing good things in the summer.  I almost forgot about the parsley, who is hiding behind the rosemary.  You probably can't see him.  Anyway, drama queen that he is I haven't repotted him and he seems fine.  Nice and green, lots of growth.  I like it.  The lemon tree has lots of lemons growing but only one new leaf.  I don't know what he's up to at the moment.  Lots of lemons but a total of three leaves, one of which is new.  Maybe he just needs time.  I bought him some special lemon feed and that seemed to cheer him up.  Both strawberry plants look happy but no strawberries as of yet.  I think they come later in the year.  And look at the size of the tomato plants!  They're getting bigger by the day.  I hope the pots will be big enough for them.  They're already flowering so I think we'll have a good harvest from them.  Now, empty containers I hear you ask.  Yes indeed.  Or not so empty.  Mystical Roo and I recently planted some rocket and some basil in the two long, brown pots on the ledge.  They're started poking their heads through the soil but they both look the same so I have no idea what's growing where.  But there's growth!  And that's the main thing.  In the empty white bucket - next to the lemon tree - I've planted some cottage garden mix, which recently arrived in the post along with a free sample of fertiliser.  Yates garden club this is.  I do like the free stuff.  Anyway, I tend to grow edible stuff but I figured there was no harm in seeing if some pretty flowers would grow.  I could put them in a vase.  They only went in a couple of days ago so no growth from them as yet.  So there we have it.  Little Stalky's spring garden.

Clean Your Bathroom, Clean Your Boyfriend

I've recently decided that one of my most hated chores is the cleaning of the shower.  I don't know why - it never used to be - but now the cleaning of the shower has become the chore of chores.  It seems to take ages. I'm faced with never ending walls of tile and glass.  I'm taunted by a little ball of hair that likes to lurk in the corner.  I get soaked.  I think the trouble here is the fact that the shower head is fixed to the wall.  In England I could grab the shower hose and use it to get my spray on.  Here this is not an option.  If I want to get some spray action going then I have to make use of a jug.  And quite frankly the jug just don't cut it.  Since when are jugs good for spraying?  They're not.  They're good for pouring.  Any hoo, Monster Noggin had the suggestion of cleaning the shower whilst in the shower.  Grab a few bathroom wipes, give the shower a clean, give yourself a clean (not with the bathroom wipes mind you) and you've done two jobs in one.  A cunning plan.  It also doesn't matter if you get a soaking.  It became even more of a cunning plan when I actually persuaded Mystical Roo to clean the shower.  I was patiently (sort of) waiting for use of the sink whilst Mystical Roo had a shower.    On a side note, if you turn on the hot tap whilst your Mystical Roo is in the shower you can extract all sorts of noises.  But you also get told off and splashed.  So, patiently waiting for use of the sink.  Pondering the household chores for the week.  I figure there's no harm in asking.  So I politely suggested to Mystical Roo that he might like to take a couple of bathroom wipes and give the shower a bit of scrub.  He was most receptive to this offer and immediately set about scrubbing the tiles.  I figured, whilst I wasn't doing anything, I may as well do the other side.  So there we were, Mystical Roo inside the shower, Little Stalky outside the shower, cleaning the shower.  We make a good team.  That shower was done in no time.  And I must say, I think Mystical Roo does a better job than I.  He's very thorough.  He was right in the grout, scrubbing away, throwing used bathroom wipes over the shower and requesting further supplies.  I should get him to do this more often.  Then not only do I get a clean boyfriend, I get a clean shower too.  Bargain.  

Spider in the Bed!

Another poor photograph courtesy of a camera phone
and my very shaky hand

This morning I was innocently changing the bed sheets when out pops this beast of a spider.  Ok, maybe "beast" is a bit over the top but he certainly wasn't a baby.  Now I'm not particularly fussed by spiders but finding one in your bed is still a bit of a shocker.  You start to question how long he was hiding there.  Was he snuggled up to me last night?  Did he crawl across my face?  Was he nestled in Mystical Roo's beard?  So many questions and quite frankly not many answers.  The spider didn't seem happy when I tried to remove the bed sheets.  I'd obviously disturbed him.  I eyed him closely and decided he probably wasn't deadly.  Probably.  He certainly wasn't a Redback and didn't have any evil fangs or anything so I ruled him out as a Funnel Web too.  Those are the only deadly spiders that I'm aware of.  I'm not sure I've seen anything like him before.  He was fairly large, brown but not a Huntsman.  Nowhere near big enough to be a Huntsman.  Maybe he was a baby Huntsman?  He had a fairly large body but quite spindly legs.  So I told the spider that he was welcome in the house if he agreed to eat flies but he was not welcome in the bed.  Spiders in the house I can handle.  Spiders in the bed is just wrong.  So I urged him to climb aboard a few sheets of tissue and then promptly escorted him back into the lounge.  I can already hear the cries from Bear Z, Monster Noggin and El Kenco - kill the spider!  Squash the spider!  Don't let it out of your sight!  But I'm afraid he's well out of my sight.  I lost track of him when I returned to the removing of my bed sheets.  I just hope wherever he is, he's eating plenty of fruit flies!

Beard Appreciation

This is the type of beard Mystical Roo is
currently sporting.  He claims Brad Pitt
copied him.  I don't know. 

Mystical Roo has a beard.  He's had a beard for about four or five years now.  It snuck onto his face one day and then never left.  I've always been of the opinion that hairy is scary but I've become accustomed to the beard.  Somehow, that beard has worked its way into my heart.  I have accepted the beard.  I even get use out of the beard if some chin scratching, pondering action is required.  I can stroke the beard without having to actually grow a beard.  I'm not even sure I could grow a beard but you just never know.  But whilst I've come to accept the beard as part of life I don't think I've ever shown any particular appreciation for it.  Sometimes I'll try to plait it but I don't think that's really showing it appreciation as such.  Mystical Roo got some actual beard appreciation in the form of three youths who liked his beard so much that they felt the need to actually yell about it.  Whilst walking on the other side of the road, considering I'm deaf as a post, I was the only one who actually heard these kids yelling "cool beard dude" and "dude, cool beard".  They might have just shouted "beard" at one point but I can't be sure.  When no one else paid them any attention I had to wonder whether I was hallucinating, my mind conjuring up images of beard appreciating teenagers.  You'd think my brain could come up with better hallucinations!  Then I figured Mystical Roo was too cool to acknowledge the kids.  He has a beard you know.  You don't just talk to anyone.  I mentioned this to Mystical Roo who claimed to have no knowledge of the kids yelling at his beard.  Maybe the beard had heard?  Mystical Roo certainly hadn't.  I went back to my original conclusion of tea induced hallucinations.  But it turns out Mystical Roo had seen the teenagers he just hadn't heard them.  Well I heard them and I promptly informed him that they were yelling praise at the beard.  I think both the beard and Mystical Roo were pleased with this development.  Personally, I think the teenagers need to find something better to do on a Monday afternoon than shout at random strangers and their beards.  But what do I know.  

The Curse

Well, it's the bank holiday weekend and even in Australia the weather for a long weekend never seems to be good.  This weekend will be no exception.  After what seemed like weeks of glorious sunshine we've now hit chilly temperatures of just 16 degrees and have been forecast wind and rain.  All weekend.  Marvellous!  But I blame myself for this.  Two weekends ago I was working and we were in the midst of a mini heatwave.  These last two weekends I've been off and the weather has been miserable.  It's a family curse.  We actually attract bad weather.  And it's not just rain and things. Oh no.  We'll bring on hurricanes if you're not careful.  We'll cause a monsoon in the dry season.  It's probably my family that's melting the polar ice caps!  We don't always have the best of luck when it comes to weather.  It can be glorious one day but watch out.  If one of us is bound for your country then you can guarantee that the moment we step off the plane then something funky will happen.  You may even get struck by lightning.  We have that affect.  I did warn Mystical Roo about this problem, I even thought he might balance things out but it seems I still manage to screw up the weather.  And because I'm off this long weekend it means everyone will have to suffer with me.  You remember the floods I reported on a while back?  Yes, I was there.  In the midst of it.  I just wish I could use my powers for good.  I wish I could bring on the sunshine.  With Rabby and Bear Z set to land in November and then stay for three months, if Australia has it's craziest summer yet then we'll know why.

The Rare and Lesser Spotted Bubble Bath

One of things I find surprising about living in Australia is the distinct lack of bubble bath.  I can't remember when I first noticed this but it's cropped up on more than one occasion.  I remember the shops in England - Boots, Super Drug, even Tesco - used to have like a whole shelf dedicated to bubble bath and all things bathtime.  Not just stuff for the kids either.  This was full on luxury.  Bubble bath, bath salts, bath oils.  Bubble bath came in a mass of different shapes, sizes, colours, flavours and smells.  Bubble bath was everywhere.  But try to find bubble bath here and you'll be lucky.  Our local Woolworths stocks just two types.  A single version of Radox and an industrial looking yellow one that's meant to sooth dry skin.  That is it.  Nothing else.  I thought I'd have more luck in the pharmacy but oh no, they don't stock it all.  Not a god damned thing.  Honestly, what is a person supposed to buy that random female friend at Christmas if they can't buy a pretty selection of bath salts.  I used to have a collection on the go in England.  I couldn't get through it quick enough. Now that's a thing of the past.  Bubble bath is a rare and incredible thing.  I can only put this down to the weather and even made mention of this to the bored looking sales girl in the pharmacy.  I figure with all the cold weather then us Brits like to indulge with a bubble bath on a fairly regular basis.  Maybe because the weather is so nice here the Aussies don't have the need to defrost themselves in a hot tub.  I don't know.  I'd say there's a gap in the market for a bubble bath shop but what do I know.  Maybe there's not enough demand.  There's demand here though.  Little Stalky demands bubble bath!

New Plants!

Left to right:  Floppy coriander, bushy mint, flowering thyme,
ridiculously green parsley, healthy rosemary, not so healthy
oregano, baby chilli plant, blooming lemon tree, baby
strawberry, big strawberry and Mr and Mrs Tomato

I'm pleased to introduce the latest additions to Little Stalky's balcony garden.  A new chilli plant, two new tomato plants (baby Roma to be precise), a new parsley plant and, for the first time ever, a coriander plant.  And I can already hear Rabby groaning.  I've been advised against trying to grow coriander but I figured for $3.00 I may as well give it a shot.  If it doesn't happen then at least I've got a round of coriander for my chilli con carne that's only about 50c more expensive than what I would have bought in Woolies.  Actually, upon buying my coriander I even bumped into a friend who said she'd never had any success with growing coriander.  Apparently they go to seed very quickly.  They'll freak out if they dry out.  No chance of that at the moment.  You can probably see from the photograph, the the balcony is looking a bit soggy today.  The new plants are getting a drenching.  But they seem happy enough.  I picked them up yesterday at the produce markets in town and was thrilled to come away with my new plant buddies.  Now I'm trying to persuade Mystical Roo to take me to Bunnings so that I can get me some potting soil and some food for the lemon tree.  I figure I'll repot the tomatoes and the chilli but I'll leave the parsley and the coriander alone.  I know parsley is sensitive and doesn't like to be moved and he fared very well in his little pot last time.  Coriander sounds like the sensitive type too so I think I'll leave him be.  I'm loving spring.  New plants, current plants in bloom and a winning battle against the fruit flies.  All I need to do now is plant my seeds and see how I go with the rocket and the sweet basil.  Everything is good except for the fact that I think my oregano has died.  You can sort of see him lurking in the background - in the white bucket.  Not looking overly healthy.  I'll see how he goes but if he decides to head into the big compost bin in the sky - or rather, the little compost bin on my balcony, it will be ok.  He had a good innings.  

The Myna

There appear to be new residents on the balcony and they're not of the plant type.  They're of the bird type.  But I'm pretty sure they're not in league with Will.  These two are what I believe to be Myna birds.  They seem to be very common here in Australia but from what I've heard are not indigenous.  These birds are frowned upon, though I'm not really sure why.  Something to do with bullying other birds?  They don't look like bullies to me.  But what do I know.  Any how, these two Mynas have come to hang out on the balcony almost every day for the last month.  I notice them because of their distinctive call.  And their penchant for eating fruit flies.  Oh yes.  They eat the fruit flies.  Now I don't want to jinx it but these birds seem to be the perfect addition to the balcony.  They eat the fruit flies but they don't eat the fruit.  They leave the plants alone and have never once pooped only the balcony.  They tend to hop about for a bit, munching on the flies and then fly up onto the wall and just sit there for a while.  They seem content.  And I'm happy to let them go about their business.  Any bird that tackles the fruit flies whilst leaving my plants alone is more than welcome. 

The Alarm Clock That Never Stopped

As we're often on very different schedules for actually getting out of bed, Mystical Roo and I have separate alarm clocks.  Actually, he has the alarm clock and I use my phone.  I think Mystical Roo uses his phone too.  As a somewhat deep sleeper at times, he needs a double whammy to wake him up.  The thing is, when the sun is shining, when I have lots to do, I'm inclined to get up with Mystical Roo.  And this tends to be quite early.  My alarm clock, my phone, is rendered superfluous for that morning.  But I forget to actually turn my alarm clock off.  And at 06.30 it starts to chime away, playing Fur Elise over and over and over and over...........And no matter where I am (unless I've actually left the house without my phone - yeah right), no matter what I'm doing, I can always hear the alarm.  If the TVs on I can hear the alarm.  If I'm in the shower I can hear the alarm.  If I'm on the balcony I can hear the alarm.  And I know what you're thinking - great alarm!  Yes, it does it's job.  But it never stops.  You'd think after half an hour the thing would just give it up.  I'm awake already!  But it never does.  It goes on and on.  And I should just go and turn the thing off but it always feels like such an effort to go back into the bedroom to silence the phone.  But there's only so much Fur Elise a person can take in the morning.

Payball?

I've once again found myself in another embarrassing situation courtesy of my dodgy hearing and my...well...Englishness.  At work today one of the young ground staff - one I'd never seen before - came into reception to ask for what I could only interpret as payball.  At first I couldn't hear a word he was saying and he was only a few feet away.  I stood up and shuffled closer.  He repeated his initial question but still I couldn't understand him.  He may as well have been speaking gobbledygook because I couldn't make out a single word.    I squinted, focused really hard, even put my hand up to my ear and asked him to again repeat the question.  Again I couldn't understand him.  This actually started to get a bit embarrassing because he was looking at me like I was crazy and his friend started laughing.  Unfortunately for me the other girls were on the phone so I couldn't ask for assistance.  I was stuck.  He repeated his question and all  I could hear was payball.  Now I'm pretty sure that payball isn't a word.  I repeated it to him.  Payball?  He said the word again and all I could hear was payball.  I looked at him blankly.  He tried to tell me it was the green folder.  The green folder?  What does the green folder have to do with payball.  At this point I was starting to flush red as I just couldn't understand what he was going on about.  I think it was a mixture of my poor hearing, the Australian accent and his mumbling.  Eventually one of the other girls came off the phone.  They hadn't heard the conversation but on seeing my confusion advised that the boys had probably come in for their time sheets.  Their time sheets.  Well time sheet certainly doesn't sound anything like payball.  I scurried off to find it, couldn't find it and then had to come back to say that someone else had taken it.  They left and I still had no idea what the man had been saying.  I explained my conundrum to my colleagues who confirmed that payball was not a random Australian word and that they too didn't know what it was.  Then it clicked that he could have been saying pay book.  He was after the pay book.  Not the pay ball.  Well honestly.  Who calls it a pay book!  No wonder I was confused.

Pen in the Hair

Do you know where's a great place to store pens?  Your hair.  It's great.  And I know what you're thinking.  At what point does one need to store one's pen in one's hair.  When one needs one's hands and is unable to put one's pen down. I'm often with a pen in my hand.  It's a handy tool.  You can write stuff with it.  Poke people with it.  Chew ponderously on it.  You can even pretend it's mini sword and practice your skills.  But only if you've got time.  So, when wandering about with your pen and the sudden need for the use of both your hands arises, where do you put your pen?  Your pocket?  Don't have any.  On a table?  There is no table.  On the floor?  Someone might trip.  No.  You put it in your hair.  Booh yah!  This obviously works better if you have your hair clipped up.  It provides a kind of sturdy landing pad for the pen.  A cunning plan.  A cunning plan indeed.  As long as you remember to remove the pen from your hair.  As practical as it is, a pen sticking out the back of your head can look a bit random.  And it's embarrassing when one of your colleagues points out that you have pens in your hair.  Ah yes, storing them for later.  I once came home from work, unclipped my hair and not one but two pens tumbled to the floor.  How long had they been in there for?  Why had no one mentioned anything?  Maybe people had just assumed it was a Little Stalky look.  A look not to be questioned.  So I guess what I'm saying is pen in the hair is a good thing as long as you remember to remove the pen when your hands are back in action.  If the pen is there for a reason then it's practical and chic.  If you're wandering around with a pen sticking out the top of your head for hours on end then you just look like a loon.  

Cow Calls

I had a surreal day at work the other day because at one point nearly every other phone call was from local residents reporting on cows that were having baby cows.  Or calves if you want to be picky.  As a big holiday park that used to be a dairy farm we still have cows that chill out in their own personal cow fields.  They like to hang out, munch some grass, watch the day go by.  So when some of these cows started having baby cows it was a cause of concern for some nearby households who could see the cows from their windows.  And for some reason I was the one that answered all of the calls for help.  I think the other girls thought I was making things up as no one else seemed to be receiving these cow related calls.  But I got a lot of them.  There's a cow giving birth.  There's a calf that is being ignored by a cow.  There's a cow with afterbirth (what the heck is afterbirth?  I don't want to know).  There's a cow that looks like it's in pain - that'll be child birth then...or should I say cow birth.  There's a cow wearing a bowler hat and doing a little jig.  Ok that never happened but the way the day was going I don't think I would have been surprised.  The first call prompted me to call the park owner who was well aware of what was going on and assured me that the cows were being taken care of.  After that I then reassured the various local residents that the cows were indeed ok and being looked after.  It was like being a farmer for a day.  Or maybe a vet.  Or maybe a keeper of the cows.  But as much as I reassured the local residents it didn't stop them giving me detailed accounts of what they could see.  The baby cow looks sad.  The mother cow looks uncomfortable.  One cow has stuff hanging out of places.  And being the only person who seemed to be getting these calls I was bombarded.  I'd hang up and nod in acknowledgement that yes, it was another cow call.  Thankfully the cows now seem to have sorted themselves out and as yet there have been no more reports from concerned local residents.  But we've still got the whole summer to go.  

Little Black Dots

I've recently become aware of strange, little black dots, which have appeared on the wall just behind my computer.  I didn't pay them much attention at first and had just assumed they were some sort of paint fleck from an untidy handyman.  But then I realised they were multiplying.  And not only that, they were appearing actually on my desk and even on a sketch that Mystical Roo had done.  And no, I'm not seeing spots.  These little black dots are definitely real.  But I have no idea what they are.  They look like little poppy seeds just dotted around the place.  But I don't think they're as innocent as all that.  I think it's much more likely that they're some sort of alien life form.  Or intruders sent by Will.  Or fruit flies in disguise.  I don't think there's much innocent about these little black dots.  So I did what anyone would do.  I poked one with a ruler.  It was kind of stuck to the wall but with a bit of effort I dislodged it and it fell away without leaving a mark.  Then I got a bit ruler happy and went to town on all of the little black dots.  Now I think I'm fairly free of little black dots but I'm not convinced that they won't come back.  I'd really like to find out what they are.  And generally speaking, are little black dots friendly or a little bit evil?  Should Little Stalky really be trusting the little black dots.  I guess we'll find out soon enough.

Amazon's Perfect Packaging

Apart from really, really loving my new Kindle I was also inexplicably excited by the packaging in which my Kindle arrived.  Both Mystical Roo and I noted that Amazon do some rather funky packaging.  And it's not all glitzy and posh.  It's just simple.  But by being simple it's sensible.  It's just some neat cardboard with the Amazon logo.  It's the type of cardboard that can be chucked in the compost bin.  It's the type of cardboard that looks like it's eco friendly.  It's the type of cardboard that is wonderfully easy to open.  There's no plastic bits that require scissors, knives and chainsaws.  There's no stupid wire ties and metal fasteners.  There's no straps to undo.  It's just a nice easy tab that pulls away and reveals the excitement that is your new kindle.  The box even proudly states that it's easy to open.  Not in a smug way.  Not in a superior way.  Just in a way that kind of winks at you and goes yes, I have some pretty cool packaging.  But it's all for you my little Kindle buying friend.  It's all for you.  So now I'm in love with Amazon almost as much as I'm love with Google Chrome.  They're published my book, they've provided me with my new Kindle (though really El Kenco should take all credit for that) and now they've given us the perfect packaging.  Amazon, I salute you!

A Holiday is a Privilege, Not a Right

Do you know what's really been getting on my nerves at the moment?  People who think they're entitled to things.  Who think they're owed a living.  Who think that everything should just be handed to them on a plate.  It really gets my goat.  And I think what's been setting me off is the people whinging and moaning to me about the cost of the holiday they've booked.  It's like they want sympathy.  I almost threw the phone out the window on one day when a man got really cross with me because his holiday had gone up by the shocking amount of $5 per night.  This from the man who comes every year and knows there's a price increase every year.  This from the man who was told there would be a price increase.  This from the man who is taking himself and his five kids on holiday for three weeks.  Honestly!  The thing is, a holiday is a privilege, not a right.  Sure everyone is entitled to time off (though not all of us take it) but to actually go away on a paid holiday is not something that everyone can do.  I had one woman complaining that she'd just started a new business and wasn't sure if she could afford the holiday.  Well don't bloody well book the holiday then.  What are you doing starting a new business and booking a holiday.  You don't do both.  And she's preaching to the choir.  I know very well what it's like to start a new business and I know very well that after starting a new business some people haven't had a holiday in over three years.  I just can't get my head around all these people who think it's somehow their divine right to go on holiday.  If you can then that's great but don't have a go at me because you don't have an extra grand in your budget to go away for the week.  I have even less sympathy because I'm English.  At least if you can't go away on holiday here in Australia you're guaranteed some sunshine.  And most people live near the beach anyway.  If you can't go on holiday when you live in England then you know you're stuck with the rain and about two days worth of summer.  Now that's something to complain about!  

Hurricane Proof Pegs

With the electricity having been out for the past few days and a lazy weekend of not doing very much my pile of washing quickly escalated into a mountain and threatened to take over the laundry room.  I'm not one to give power to a pile of washing and so on Tuesday afternoon I set about putting on a few loads.  I didn't really think about the fact that it was already 17.00.  So I did my washing, I hung my washing out to dry and then I forgot about it.  As often I do.  So when I woke up in the middle of the night to sounds of high winds the first thing I thought about was my washing still on the line.  Whoops.  I'm confident that the plants are ok in this kind of wind and even the lid of the compost bin manages to stay put but I wasn't sure about the washing.  I had images of pants flying in the wind, trousers heading out to sea and a line of Mystical Roo's shirts dancing off over the roof tops.  But I didn't get out of bed.  I was concerned but not concerned enough that I wanted to leave the warm cocoon of the bed.  My mind was put at ease when I remembered that I'd used my hurricane proof pegs.  Yes, that's right.  Hurricane proof pegs.  I'm not sure if I've made mention of these before but we originally bought them because they were yellow and green.  And plastic, so there was no risk of rust running onto our clothes.  I had failed to notice that they were also advertised as hurricane proof until we actually got home.  I guess hurricane proof pegs are a selling point but honestly, who leaves their clothes out in a hurricane? Me apparently.  Ok, so it wasn't exactly a hurricane but it was certainly very, very windy.  When I woke up this morning I confessed to Mystical Roo that I'd left our laundry on the line.  He was well aware of this and said that he too had been woken up worrying about the clothes.  I guess the hurricane proof pegs put his mind at rest too.  I went to check on our clothes and they were all exactly where I'd left them.  Not only that, they were dry and smelt fresh and clean.  Then it occurred to me that with hurricane proof pegs I shouldn't have been afraid of the wind.  I should have been pleased that it was doing such a thorough drying job of my clothes.  Hurricane pegs are a genius invention.  Make the most of a bad situation and use the force of  nature to dry your clothes in record time.  As long as the washing line itself doesn't fly away then it's all good.  Even if it did, I bet those pegs would hold firm.  So what are you waiting for everyone.  Go out and buy yourself some hurricane proof pegs!  

Thank God for Big Pants

I've got a very comfortable pair of jeans that I've been trying to make last through the winter.  I figured if I could just make them last until we hit the sunny season then I won't have to fork out for a new pair for like another six months.  Now there's a plan.  The only problem with this plan is that I've worn these jeans out.  I knew they were on their way but I honestly thought they were going to make it.  I'm sure there's only a few weeks of jeans wearing weather left to go.  But they're officially kaput.  The material on this pair of jeans has been softening for a while.  Fading and becoming weaker and flimsier.  The seams were starting to strain.  The back pocket was weakening.  So when I bent over to retrieve a fallen bottle I shouldn't have been surprised when I felt a big rip and realised that a gaping hole had appeared in the back of my jeans.  All I can say is thank God I was wearing big pants!  

Little Stalky Gets a Kindle!

After yesterday's bad start to the day, the world was put to right again after the surprise arrival of a package from Amazon.  A package from Amazon? I hear you you cry.  Why yes indeed.  A package from Amazon.  A package that was given to me by Mystical Roo who claimed to know nothing about the package.  It had just arrived at the warehouse.  It was addressed to him but he knew nothing about it.  I was intrigued.  Slightly confused but mainly intrigued.  The important thing here is that the intrigue was the main thing.  I opened up my package and almost keeled over with delight on the discovery that inside the package was a brand new Kindle.  Not only that, but a brand new Kindle cover.  I was beyond thrilled.  I'd been pining for a Kindle ever since publishing my book but never thought I'd get one.  But I have a very generous sister who likes to spoil me rotten and it was El Kenco who gifted me with the amazing Kindle and its amazing Kindle cover.  I have attached a photograph of me holding my amazing new Kindle, which is in its amazing Kindle cover, which has its very own light.  Amazing.  I am posing next to a photocopier.  I'm very excited with the Kindle and have already checked out a sample of my book - you know, just to see what it looks like - downloaded a free book with a coupon supplied by a fellow author and downloaded a sample of a book that looks rather good.  I'm very impressed with the screen on the Kindle.  It's got a matte effect and looks almost exactly like the page of a real book.  It's battery lasts for ten days.  It can hold thousands of books.  It has 3G so I can browse and download books wherever I please.  Maybe even in the North pole.  It's a little Kindle genius.  And I'm so proud of it.  So HUGE thanks to El Kenco.  And I've already promised that I will not, under any circumstances, take the Kindle in the bath with me.   

The Man up the Pole

I am currently not a happy Stalky.  Not a happy Stalky at all.  Why Stalky? Why are you not happy?  Well, here's the story.  I woke up this morning to the sound of men thundering around on the overhang just below our bedroom window.  Crash, bang, talk, talk, talk.  Great.  And these unknown men were right outside our bedroom window.  Mystical Roo and I cursed the real estate agents for not informing us of whatever work was happening.  As Mystical Roo went off to work I settled down on my computer to do some work.  I'd checked my emails, written a sentence and them BAM.  Off goes the power.  Everything.  My computer screen is blank before my eyes.  I go and check the circuit box thing and all is well.  All switches are in their appropriate spots.  I peer out the window to see what the men are doing and realise that one of them is up a pole.  The electricity pole.  Ah ha.  A text message is sent to Mystical Roo to advise that his Stalky has become disgruntled.  At this point I ponder a number of possibilities.  Someone has either neglected to inform us of this anticipated power cut or the dude up the pole has cocked up.  I peer out the window again and I'm pretty sure that he can see me watching him.  Mystical Roo suggests I phone the council for information.  So this is what I do, only to be informed that the council have nothing to do with this kind of thing.  But the woman does point me in the direction of the electric company.  The electric company inform me that they know nothing either but that they'll send someone to take a look.  They don't know how long this will be.  I am rather cross by this point.  I had planned a morning of housework and afternoon of work at my computer.  But with no electricity there is not a whole lot I can do. Then I become concerned that the fridge and freezer are both off.  Then I wonder if the electricity is directly linked to the hot water that I'm hoping to bring forth from the shower.  I decide that if no one is going to give me answers then I'm going to go and get answers for myself.  I'm going to go and speak to the man up the pole.  And this is what I do.  Yes I'm in dodgy tracksuit bottoms but I don't really care.  As far as I'm concerned, in the mood I'm in, the man up the pole has no right to judge me and my dodgy tracksuit bottoms.  He seems to be expecting me.  He informs me that the power will be out until about one o'clock and they'd informed the real estate agents who were in turn meant to inform us.  I've been told nothing.  I thank the man up a pole.  He is not the man onto whom I shall vent my rage. I skulk back into the house and decide that I'll join Mystical Roo at work where I can take my laptop and do some work.  I decide I'll have a shower.  To have a shower I have to leave the bathroom door open so that I can get some light.  What I don't realise is that the door to the spare room is also open and the curtains in the spare room are also open.  And there is a man stood outside of that bedroom window.  I only realise this after I've had my shower, after I've walked around in a towel, after I've gone into that room, seen the man standing at the window and promptly turned around and walked back out again.  I wonder whether I've been seen in the shower.  It's at this point that I decide I just have to get out of the house.  There's no power, the house is a mess and there are random men at all the windows.  My attempts to flee the house are thwarted as the men have set up their tools in the passageway that leads back onto the street.  I have to wait for them to stop sawing through a huge piece of steel (or whatever) just so that I can pass.  Of course they have to engage me in conversation and I have to again wonder if I've been seen in the shower.  I flee.  When I arrive at work I feel a strong need to vent my anger.  The real estate agents are going to get told off.  But when I phone the real estate agents they say they know nothing about it either!  So then I feel stupid for being angry at the real estate agents and highly disappointed that I haven't been able to tell anyone off.  I hang up the phone feeling miserable.  I call the electricity company again who confirm that a contractor is removing the pole and told them that all the relevant parties had been informed.  Well evidently I'm not a relevant party.  I ask them if they know who is carrying out this work and they say they don't know.  No one knows!  And I've got a lot of built up anger to vent.  I explain to the lady that the van is unmarked and I can't identify the company.  She thinks this is strange, which made me wonder if we had dodgy electricity people on the loose.  Dodgy, peeping electricity people!  I've since concluded that the only way I'm going to find out who these people are, and more importantly, who I can rage at, is to speak to the man up the pole.  I stupidly feel a bit sorry for the man up the pole who is probably just doing his job and assumes the administration side of things has been taken care of.  So I'm going to have to go back, talk to the man up the pole and find out who is responsible for this cock up.  Because someone needs to be told!

Ammy Gets Burgerlised & Mystical Roo Gets Juiced

Today, "the gang" and I have been for a day trip to Sydney.  Living in Australia feels like the norm now but when we do things like this it reminds me of how lucky we are.  We can just hop in the car and arrive in Sydney within about an hour and half.  That's pretty cool.  Even cooler is the fact that we found a car park that was charging just $15 for the day.  Bargain city.  Yes it was a spooky, underground, cave-like car park that was possibly home to a phantom but it was cheap.  And that's the main thing.  We had breakfast at Circular Quay before hopping on a ferry to Darling Harbour. Here's a tip.  If you're getting on a ferry then be sure to have children with you.  7 adult return tickets were going to set us back $63.  When we made mention of the fact that we were travelling with a baby and a toddler (evidence of said children was required) this went down to $17 for all of us and entitled us to an unlimited all day pass.  I have no idea how the maths for this things works but it works.  Another bargain!  Darling Harbour was a hub of activity and there were a number of bum pinching birds on the loose.  I kept my eye on them but we didn't have any trouble.  Not from them anyway.  The Stevens were on super sneaky form.  The Stevens were muscling in on our lunch.  The Stevens stole a hamburger straight from Ammy's hand.  Shocking behaviour.  We were swift to move on.  But not before Squishy squirted apple juice (from her mouth) all over Mystical Roo.  Oh how we laughed.  It was a good day.   And now, the perfect finish to the day?  A cup of tea.  

Little Stalky Gets Seeds in the Post

I recently joined a Yates online garden club and was told if I got two friends to sign up then I would receive free seeds.  Well who can say no to free seeds?  I was pestering the gang to join up so that I could claim these seeds.  I'd almost forgotten about it until yesterday when my seeds actually arrived in the post.  Huge excitement!  I love it when post turns out not to be a bill.  I love it when post contains seeds.  I was so excited you'd think it was magic beans in there.  But it wasn't.  It was just seeds.  Sweet basil and rocket seeds to be precise.  That was another thing - I didn't know what seeds would be sent so that was exciting too.  I had the choice between flowers or herbs.  Of course I went for herbs.  I like to have an edible garden.  So now I'm the proud owner of seeds.  And I plan to plant them in the coming weeks and monitor their progress.  I've not planted seeds before so I'm excited to see how it goes.  Little Stalky's summer garden is going to rock!