The Royal Wedding

So who watched the Royal Wedding?  I must confess that I wasn't all that fussed about it until the thing actually started and then I got sucked in.  Sucked in!!!  We had a fair few requests from campers that we screen the Royal Wedding and so had it playing on the big screen.  For those of us left in the office, with nothing much going on, we decided to get some live streaming action going on.  We had no sound and some decisively juddery pictures and although we missed the arrival of Posh and Becks we did see Julia Gillard (Australian PM).  I came home to Mystical Roo made pizza and a glass of wine and found that the Royal Wedding was playing on almost every channel.  So we settled down to watch it and I became embroiled in a Facebook commentary.  Was that a hat or a lobster?  What's happened to that woman's nose?  Don't the bridesmaids look lovely.  Then there was the anticipation of seeing the dress.  The dress.  Very important.  And I must say that Kate Middleton looked beautiful.  Every inch the princess.  After I'd seen everyone arrive and watched the couple exchange their vows I felt I'd satisfied my Royal Wedding needs.  It was nice to watch.  And it was nice to know that even though I'm half way round the world, I was watching the same thing as friends and family back in England and France.  The mind boggles.  

The Ultimate Norwich Fan

As mentioned in previous blog posts, Mystical Roo is a huge Norwich fan.  I've come to the decision that Mystical Roo is actually the ultimate Norwich fan.  I'm not sure if I know anyone as dedicated to his team as Mystical Roo.  Ok, I don't know that many Norwich fans, even less now that we live in Australia, but as far as fanship (is it a word?  It should be) goes, Mystical Roo tops the charts.  I like that he supports his team because of his personal connection to the city of Norwich.  He's not some glory hound (no offence team) just following a team constantly at the top of the league.  He supports Norwich through thick and thin and follows everything.  Everything. The coverage of football (which the Australians insist on calling soccer - bleugh) is poor over here and with Norwich in the Championship league there's even less chance of televised matches.  When the matches are televised it will be at ridiculous o'clock because of the time difference.  But if Norwich are on TV then Mystical Roo and Treacle will be there to watch it.  Midnight or four o'clock in the morning.  It makes no difference to them.  Even if Mystical Roo does have to head to work just minutes after the game ends.  And if they're not on the TV?  Then Mystical Roo will listen on the radio.  Which can only be achieved by streaming through the Internet.  Again, at stupid o'clock at night.  Then he'll YouTube the game so that he can see the goals he'd heard speak of.  Of which there have been quite a few at the moment.  Go team.  I don't want to jinx anything but it looks like we're set to go up in the world.  And there will be much celebrating.  I've been wearing my Norwich shirt every night (totally comfy) and there is a Norwich scarf draped cunningly over Mystical Roo's rocking chair.  One day I'm going to have enough money so that we can buy Mystical Roo a season ticket.  Then he can be the ultimate Norwich supporter in person.  And I might finally be in a position to buy my way into that Canary costume I've had my eye on.  And I can be the ultimate mascot! 

Little Stalky Cleans Her Shoes



From left to right:  Mystical Roo shoe, Little
Stalky zebra print shoe, Little Stalky red
shoe.  Lots of shoes.



After a rare night out into town on Saturday, I was most upset to return home and realise that my beautiful red shoes had become marked and grubby.  I love my shoes.  They're bright red and have massive high heels.  What's not to love.  But it seems not everyone loves my red shoes because there was beer spilt on them, wine spilt on them and they were covered in scuff marks after various people had taken it upon themselves to stand on Little Stalky.  The hazards of going to overcrowded pubs full of drunken people.  Perhaps that's why it was a rare night out.  Anyway, my shoes aren't expensive but they're special to me and I was distraught that they were all marked up.  Mystical Roo, ever the optimist, assured me that there must be something out there that could fix the shoes.  I shouldn't give up.  I shouldn't sulk.  I shouldn't try to persuade him that the buying of new red shoes was the answer.  So where did we look?  Well, Woolworths of course.  We're very loyal you know.  And we'd hoped (and did) to catch sight of trolley dude.  We picked up a stain removal pack that caters to various different stains because, as the slogan said, not every stain is the same.  I had three little bottles of spray.  One for food and drink stains, one for gum and glue stains and one for ink stains.  They covered a lot more than that but that's what I remember.  I was dubious I must admit but I thought I'd give it a go.  For the shoes.  So I followed the instructions, sprayed the stain on my shoe, agitated the stain (I shouted abuse at it) and then dabbed with a cloth.  I swear to God that the stains disappeared before my eyes.  They vanished.  Like magic.  It was amazing.  I then started to worry that the stain removal spray would mark the shoe but to my relief it dried and my shoes were left looking as good as new.  Result!  I then decided I'd try it on other shoes.  I have a spectacular pair of zebra print shoes that I haven't worn in ages because they were marked and scuffed.  I simply couldn't bring myself to throw them away.  These took a little more work as the marks were years old but the stain removal did its thing and the shoes were back to their best.  Incredible!  I did Mystical Roo's shoes too just for good measure.  I'm pretty sure this stain removal spray was made by fairies and infused with magic.  It's the only explanation for such cleaning power.  I'll have to find out what the stain removal spray is called (I've forgotten) and who makes it (I've forgotten) and spread the word.  This stuff rocks!  

The Grammar Goon

In an attempt to better myself as a writer I've been honing my skills.  Or rather I've been trying to hone my skills.  This is much harder than one would think.  My main focus point of late has been my grammar, because I know I put commas in stupid places.  But honestly, trying to get some sort of consensus on when one should use a comma is impossible.  The Americans seem to have one idea, the British another idea and then there are all these folk in the middle throwing commas all over the shot.  Never use and and a comma together.  Always use and and a comma together.  Use a comma with conjunctions, don't use a comma with conjunctions.  I just want everyone to agree.  Why can't we just agree?!  Gah!  I don't know who to listen to and I don't know who to believe.  I'm English and so figure I should be following the British guidelines but I don't know where to look to find an authority on this.  It makes you wish you were at school and could ask a teacher but let's face it, they don't always know what they're talking about do they?  I just want one set of rules that I can stick to and occasionally bend so that I don't look like an grammatically challenged numpty.  And yes I'll use a huge amount of artistic licence with my creative writing but for professional writing I want to have it sorted.  Sorted!  But this seems to be impossible.  I need a guru.  I need someone with all the answers.  Someone I can ask all my crazy questions.  When should I use who and when should I use whom?  Where do I stick all of these pesky commas?  Sometimes I feel like I actually need to go back to school.  My head is spinning.  If anyone wants to volunteer as my guru I need proof of your genius and can offer you a steady salary of fruit pastels.  One per month.  That is all.  

Changing a Light Bulb

Amazing jar of fruit pastels.  Note:
coriander trying to get in on the
action in the background

Mystical Roo and I have had a fairly productive day today, stocking up on items for winter and ensuring the cupboards are full of food.  We actually invested in a horse today.  Not a real horse.  A fake horse.  A clothes horse to be precise.  It was a bargain at $20 but as is often the case with these kind of cheap items there was something wrong with it.  It was missing a wheel.  I was initially quite excited about it having wheels but then decided the wheels weren't that important.  And I couldn't have a wonky clothes horse.  Mystical Roos clothes pants might dry at a funny angle and that would never do.  I guess I should have taken it back and demanded my missing wheel but I didn't think it was worth the petrol.  Or the effort.  We'd only spent $20 on the thing after all.  So I decided to remove the wheels instead.  With all wheels removed it would at least stand up straight and that was the main thing.  I found a tool of some description in our drawer of doom and successfully - with no help from Mystical Roo - removed the remaining three wheels.  I was very proud of myself.  As well as our dodgy clothes horse, we also picked up some funky jars for the storage of pasta, sugar and sweets.  Namely fruit pastels.  I now have a massive jar full of fruit pastels.  It looks superb.  Less exciting items of purchase were light bulbs as both the light bulbs in the stairwell had decided to go on strike.  No one likes a dark stairwell.  Except vampires, stalkers and muggers.  Quite frankly we want to discourage their presence.  The trouble with replacing light bulbs in the stairwell is that they're rather high up.  And one can't place a chair on the staircase.  It's just not safe.  As I don't have one of those cool ladders that El Kenco has had her eye on I decided that Mystical Roo and I could team up to change the light bulbs.  So, armed with a new light bulb (an energy saver no less) I settled myself upon Mystical Roo's shoulders and then Mystical Roo stood up so that I could change the light bulb.  A scary experience.  Never have I felt so tall.  But it worked.  On the bottom light bulb at least.  The one at the top of the stairs was not so easy.  Stood on the tallest step, with Mystical Roo and me on his shoulders, we could not reach the light bulb.  Then (Bear Z should stop reading at this point) I had the the genius idea to stand on the banister to reach the light bulb.  I figured if Mystical Roo had a good hold of my waist then I would be supported and in a good position to change the light bulb.  Still on Mystical Roo's shoulders I set about positioning myself on the banister but my body simply wouldn't let me move.  It's like my brain went into sensible mode and decided that standing on the banister was not a good idea.  Finally I made it though and was totally safe because Mystical Roo had his arms around me.  I'm sure he was tempted to give me a shove but held firm.  As Mystical Roo later noted, I moved my arms and nothing else as I went about changing the light bulb, frozen with fear of toppling into the abyss.  With the vampires, stalkers and muggers.  But I successfully completed my light bulb changing task and decided that Mystical Roo and I make a good team.  Now we have light.  And lots of it.  No vampires, stalkers or muggers.  And a massive jar of fruit pastels!  

Little Stalky Frowns Upon Litter Bugs

Today I'm frustrated at litter bugs.  Not just because I've been cleaning up after them all day but because it got me thinking about how litter bugs generally are just rude.  Yes, rude.  The litter bugs I've been cleaning up after have been inspired by the free chocolate eggs we've been giving out at work.  Here, have a free egg.  Drop your litter on the floor?  Why not.  It's not rude or bad mannered or anything.  Every day for the last few days the floor has been littered in scraps of foil in various different colours.  I'd blame it on the kids but I know for a fact that adults can be just as bad.  If they're happy to throw their tin cans out of the car window then I'm sure they wouldn't think twice about dropping wrappers on the floor.  After all, someone will clean up after them won't they?  That someone has been me.  With my crap hoover that refuses to pick up anything.  It's not so much that I mind doing the hoovering, it's more that I can't believe so many people are so bad mannered.  And you see it everywhere.  Rubbish littering the side of the road, the parks, the beach.  What's wrong with people.  There are bins everywhere.  Everywhere!  It's not hard to find a bin.  And if you can't find a bin then it's not exactly a hardship to keep hold of your rubbish for the couple of minutes it takes you to come to a bin.  Do people have no respect for the beautiful country in which we live.  How can people just dump their rubbish with no thought.  It's just lazy.  And selfish.  And these litter bugs don't deserve their free chocolate.  I'm confiscating the eggs!  

Steak, Sausages and a Colourful Beard

Mystical Roo and I have just got back from our fundraising BBQ, cold, a bit soggy, rather colourful but feeling pleased to have done something worthwhile with our evening.  The weather was promising when we left the house but true to Easter and BBQ form the heavens opened and it poured with rain.  Mystical Roo and I have yet to attend a fundraising BBQ without it raining.  I'm starting to think we're bad luck.  But I think everyone had fun and we've raised hundreds of dollars for the Cancer Council through our Relay for Life team.  Mystical Roo and I arrived at about 16.30 to prepare bread for the BBQ.  We're very experienced at this now and despite that fact that my bread counting skills are a bit iffy, I thought we did a good job.  Then Mystical Roo was on BBQ duty whist Monster Noggin and I took on the hair spraying; charging small children $2 to have their hair sprayed in various shades of colour and glitter.  Parents everywhere must have been thanking us for sending their kids back covered in hairspray.  But before we did the kids we had to do our own hair.  Advertise our handiwork and draw in the masses.  Monster Noggin had a rather fetching shade of pink sprayed through her hair and I had some purple and glitter in my pigtails.  We even managed to persuade Mystical Roo to get some colour put in his beard.  Yellow and green to be precise.  We thought it appropriate after Norwich hammered the scum - ahem - I mean Ipswich, over the weekend.  He looked cool.  And was in no way scaring small children with his yellow and green beard.  We had a lot of customers and were free to get creative with their hair.  They seemed happy and we in turn were pleased with our results despite the fact that everything was covered in glitter and colour.  It might have rained - as it always seems to do - but the atmosphere was great.  The band had the kids up and dancing, we sold out of food, we had a raffle, a guess the jaffas competition and masses of children wandering around with colourful heads.  A good night.  Now we're showered, Mystical Roo's beard is back to normal colour and the kettle is on.  Time for a cup of tea and a film!  

Weird and Exotic Fruit Continued

Ok, so that random fruit and veg has been hanging out in the kitchen for a couple of days now but I can confirm that Mystical Roo and I have officially tried it.  Well some of it.  We haven't, as yet, tackled the weird green vegetable.  We have now established this is called a Choko.  I don't know if this is the correct spelling but this is how it sounds.  This is definitely the least appetising of the weird and random fruit.  I've already been told it tastes like a watery squash and that when I peel it (it needs peeling apparently) I should wear gloves so as to protect my hands from the weird sticky substance inside.  Nice.  Needless to say this is the one we've been less enthusiastic to try.  We've not even sure what to do with it to be honest, though I think boiling would be the way to go.  So we've got a random green vegetable that looks kind of impenetrable, tastes like not much, has a sticky substance that you shouldn't get on your hands and is called a Choko.  I guess it's no wonder one doesn't see these things in Woolworths all that often.  Woolworths know what the public want.  And apparently it's not a Choko.  But still.  The other weird fruit, we've actually tried but have yet to name.  I was told again what these things were called but forgot almost instantly.  I should have written it down but I got distracted by chocolate biscuits.  So, Mystical Roo and I tried this nameless fruit last night whilst watching a random film about Monsters which wasn't really about Monsters (but that's another story).  We cut it open like we would a passion fruit.  Chopped it in half and then scooped out the insides.  This nameless fruit was actually very nice.  It did remind me of passion fruit though certainly had a more bitter taste.  Not a bad bitter.  I think if I could remember what the damned things were called I'd buy some more.  They got the thumbs up from both of us.  So there you have it fans of weird and random fruit.  We have a Choko that remains unexplored but an unnamed fruit that has been tasted but unidentified.  I'm sure we'll get round to trying this choko or at least finding another use for it.  Like throwing it at hoons.  Or planting in next door's garden.  Choko report to follow.  Stalky out. 

Little Stalky and Vitamin B and the Mozzies

For the past six months or so I've been taking supplements.  Cod liver oil tablets to try and tackle the random creaking in my hips (I'm only 26!!!) and Vitamin B tablets as they're meant to relieve stress, give you more energy and give you healthier hair and nails.  I'm actually quite impressed that I've managed to stick to this regime and remember to take them on a daily basis.  This is normally something I'm not very good at.  But they sit on the breakfast counter and so when I make my cup of tea I'm reminded to take my daily dose.  Two massive cod liver oil tablets and one massive Vitamin B tablet.  Why they're so massive I don't know.  I guess it's a little hard to tell if they've been having a positive effect but I'm pretty sure I'm creaking less than normal.  Mystical Roo concurs.  We'll have to see how I go through the winter months.  My hips and knees don't like the cold.  Again, I'm only 26.  The main thing I noticed about the Vitamin B tablets was they turned my pee a fluorescent yellow.  I had been warned about this but was nevertheless a little surprised.  At least it's a way to remember whether or not you've taken them.  Is my pee a little bright today?  Ah yes, I've taken my Vitamin B.  I can't say if I feel more energised and less stressed, maybe, but I have noticed a difference in my hair and nails.  Particularly my nails.  They seem stronger and less prone to breaking.  I can tap them on the counter in a sinister way and have no fear of cracks.  Excellent.  What I hadn't realised about Vitamin B is that it's apparently a good way to keep the mozzies away.  Now I don't know if this is true; I base this information purely on what I get told in the office.  And although the office is a hub of information, not all of it can be claimed to be factual.  But last night the girls were saying that people with more Vitamin B don't get munched on as much by the mozzies.  I thought about this statement, piecing things together in my mind and realised several things.  I have always been eaten alive by mozzies.  They like the Little Stalky flavour.  We've just been through a summer of mozzies.  I haven't suffered as badly as previous years.  I've been taking Vitamin B.  Could it be (tee hee) that the B has been protecting me from those bitey beasties?  It would certainly seem so.  This is something I'm very excited by.  If I can do anything to keep those mozzies away from me than I will.  So it would seem that Vitamin B is pretty good stuff.  More energy, less stress, hardcore fingernails, mozzie repelling powers and fluorescent pee.  My God, the Vitamin B has given me super powers.

Little Stalky's Workspace: Where Stuff Happens

I'm very excited to have my own desk set up at home.  I spent a lot of time working on my laptop, with the laptop doing it's thing, sitting on my lap.  I shouldn't complain as it's not the worst thing in the world but a whole day of typing with a laptop on your lap can start to get uncomfortable.  I love that I now have my own workspace to organise myself.  You'll notice from the photograph that I now have my new computer.  All set up and ready to go.  I bought myself a pen pot - you know, for pens - but it seems to be lacking in pens at the moment and is currently holding a lone car key.  A bit random.  I've also had to pile my books up rather than sit them side by side.  I had sat them side by side and they proceeded to leap off the desk and onto the floor.  I'm hoping that one day I can get a little shelf or bookcase, but this will do for the time being.  Also on my desk is a trusty notepad and a rather funky coaster that Mystical Roo made.  It normally lives on the coffee table but I snaffled it for my desk.  The other snaffled item is the chair from the dining table as I don't have an official desk chair yet.  Good chair but it also required the snaffling of some cushions from the sofa as I get a numb butt.  So there you have it.  Little Stalky's desk.  It's where I sit to do stuff.  

Little Stalky is Tormented by Weird and Random Wine

Mystical Roo and I enjoy a glass of wine.  And as much as we'd like to stock up directly from our local winery, we're on a budget and so have to stock up from our local Woolworths instead.  We normally buy a carton of red and a carton of white and go from there.  Yes I can taste the difference between that and a nice bottle of Saddleback Mountain red but I'm no wine connoisseur and am happy with a decent Merlot.  Normally we seem to pick fairly wisely but a few months ago we got a carton of red that was decisively manky.  Yes, manky.  It's so manky that we still have it here in the house.  You'd wonder why don't just chuck it away but we somehow continue to convince ourselves that maybe next time it will get better.  The next glass will be the winner.  It's describes as a Lambrusco red but it tastes more like a rose than a red.  It's very sweet - too sweet for me - and just lacks in flavour.  The other weird thing about this wine is that it seems to be lacking in alcohol.  Now I'm not saying I've tried to get drunk on this wine.  I don't think I've ever tried to get drunk - it just happens by accident.  But this wine has no effect whatsoever.  On either of us.  If I had two glasses of "normal"wine then I'd start to feel the effects of the alcohol.  I can have four glasses of this weird wine and feel nothing at all.  Not a sausage.  And it's not like I don't feel the effects and then have a hangover.  I'm fine the next day.  I checked the box, wondering if we had purchased non alcoholic wine, but it had the same alcohol percentage as the other wines.  Most confusing.  What is this weird and random wine that tastes too sweet and seems to be non alcoholic.  The thing is, we have - or had (as we drank some) - 5 litres of this stuff.  5 litres!  I won't even use this in my cooking as I'm fairly sure that last time I did it distorted the taste of my coronation chicken.  I'm not having the crazy wine mess with my cooking.  It's very random.  We've committed the name - the Lambrusco red - to memory and have vowed never to buy it again.  Never again.  We'll just have to have some guests round for drinks and see if we can fob it off on them.  Joking!  I would never be so cruel...

The Strawberry has Landed

After putting out his feeler God knows how many weeks ago, the strawberry plant has finally rooted itself.  The feeler actually has two new plants but I must confess I've only rooted one of these so far.  The one in the middle is always caught at an awkward angle and so doesn't stay put for very long.  I'm hoping his little roots will get a bit longer and then he too can become rooted just like his friend.  It's exciting times on the balcony.  Soon I could have three strawberry plants on the go.  I figure my newly rooted strawberry plant needs a couple of weeks and then he can be removed from the main plant.  He can be set free.  Sent out on his own.  An independent strawberry plant making his own way in life and making his own decisions.  OK I guess it won't go that far.  But he will get new digs.  He's in a little pot at the moment.  Once he's established he'll be moved to a big pot.  Now I just need to get the second plant on the feeler to stay put.  Perhaps I should try some sellotape or teeny tiny stakes or persuasive conversation.  I don't want the second plant to feel left out.  Perhaps once the third strawberry plant goes on his way then the second strawberry plant can get his strawberry groove on.  What I'm interested to know is, will these new strawberries chuck out feelers of their own?  Are the strawberry plants set on balcony domination?  Can I use the strawberry plants to intimidate next door's bamboo plant.  I guess only time will tell.  

Weird and Exotic Fruit

It has come to my attention of late, that weird and exotic fruit - or sometimes vegetables - keep appearing in the lunchroom at work.  I'll amble down there, armed with tuna sandwiches and a book and there they are.  Various weird and exotic fruit, just sat in the middle of the table.  Sometimes in bags.  Sometimes on plates.  Sometimes just sat idly in the middle of the table.  Where does this fruit come from?  Is there some hidden tree of magic and wonder that lives in the tea room?  Is there a goblin - no I don't know why it would be a goblin -  that leaves mysterious fruit, watching to see who will take one.  Does the table itself have fruit generating properties.  Or could it be the more likely case that someone is growing fruit, has excess fruit and brings the fruit into work to share with their colleagues.  This, I believe, is a more logical explanation.  It still doesn't explain what the fruit actually is.  There are these weird green things that look like a cross between an apple, a pepper and possibly a starfruit suffering from an allergic reaction to peanuts.  I've been told what this fruit is called on a number of occasions but still I forget the name.  It's been likened to a watery squash so I've never felt that inclined to try one.  They look pretty funky though.  The other ones that I saw today looked like maybe a plum, crossed with a tomato, crossed with an angry potato.  Scratch the last one.  Apparently these are like passion fruit but with a tangy taste.  Popular in the fifties so I'm told.  I got distracted by my tuna sandwiches and forgot about the weird and exotic fruit.  Perhaps I'll snaffle one tomorrow and give it a try.  If I can just establish what these weird fruits are called I can confirm whether they get the Little Stalky seal of approval.  We'll see.  

Trolley Dude Gets a New Look

We see trolley dude nearly every time we go to the supermarket.  He's out and about, taking care of the trolleys and doing what a trolley dude does.  He has a very specific style that reminds me, for some reason, of the Mediterranean.  He has tanned skin and dark hair, which is always tied back in a ponytail.  It's trolley dudes look.  So we were shocked today to discover that trolley dude has chopped off all his hair.  He looks like a different man.  A different trolley dude who definitely remembers trolley dude but now has a different trolley dude persona.  The confusion.  We always thought that trolley dudes power was hidden in his ponytail.  Without the ponytail does he still exert control over the trolleys?  Well yes, it would seem so.  He was out and about up to his usual business and the trolleys were well behaved.  He even came up to me to take my trolley when we had finished loading the ute.  I had to stop myself from saying, hey trolley dude, what happened to your do?  I didn't want to offend him or have him think that I was in any way stalking him.  I was, however, excited to have spoken to trolley dude - I had thanked him for taking my trolley - and trotted back to Mystical Roo to announce that yes, I had just spoken to trolley dude.  I think Mystical Roo was impressed.

Random Poop Smell

Yesterday proved to be a pretty normal day at work, except for the random unidentified smell that chose to invade reception just after lunch.  Manky smell.  I was checking in a guest when I first became aware of the smell and I had to wonder, is it another stinky guest?  Someone with BO like that one the other day.  But the smell wasn't BO.  It was something more pungent and, dare I say it, less pleasant.  The guest moved on and the smell remained.  I then became a little paranoid that it was me giving off the funky odour.  That would be embarrassing.  I confess that I subtly sniffed at myself, checking to make sure that I wasn't the source of the stench.  It was then that I realised, unless I'd soiled myself - which I hadn't - then the smell most definitely wasn't me.  Because it hit me that the smell I could smell was the smell of poop.  Happy that it wasn't me, fairly certain it wasn't any of my colleagues, I asked if any of the others could smell the random poop smell.  There was a consensus amongst the staff.  There was a random poop smell and it was in the office.  It was agreed that the smell was not good but we couldn't establish where the smell was actually coming from.  I whipped out the lavender spray - the one reserved for smelly guests - and gave the air a spritz.  It eased the smell but didn't mask it and we were left with air that smelt like lavender poop.  What could it be?  The drain in the kitchen has been known to emit a pungent whiff but it didn't appear to be coming from that direction.  We've had children with poop issues but the reception was empty.  No one had stood in poop.  It was a mystery.  And then, as we were scratching our heads, someone came in and announced the smell was all through the town.  All through the town?  The whole town smells of poop?  We were relieved that it wasn't us specifically but couldn't work out what it was that had caused the whole town to smell of poop.  Someone suggested it could be low tide and the foul stench of seaweed drying in the sun.  I don't like this smell but I'd never likened it to poop.  Luckily for us the smell disappeared fairly quickly.  Either that or we all got used to it.  The town does not appear to be smelling of poop this morning and that is certainly a relief.  But the mystery remains.  Where did the poop smell come from?  Perhaps we'll never know. 

Evil and Random Paper Cuts of Doom

In preparation for the Easter rush I have taken it upon myself to ensure our display in reception is nicely stocked with various leaflets and brochures.  This involves phoning various companies and requesting that they send us a supply of their brochures.  Easier said than done as some people seem to react to this like it's the biggest hassle in the world.  Well if you don't want your free advertising...Weird.  The other leaflets we supply are they type which we photocopy, fold and then stock.  Things like walking maps and local information.  I quite enjoy this task, I think because it gives me the chance to be organised and I love being organised.  I set the photocopier going, get myself a stack of folding and the away I go.  I have, however, realised that this is a highly hazardous occupation.  Hazardous because of the ridiculous amount of paper cuts one can acquire from the folding of leaflets.  The first few stung but then I started to get used to it and just carried on.  As long as I wasn't bleeding over anything then I figured it would be ok.  The thing is, looking at my thumbs this morning (as you do) I've realised they've covered - absolutely covered - in tiny little cuts.  It's like a teen tiny person has taken their teeny tiny knife and just carved at my skin.  I suppose it's not a problem as such, as long as I stay away from things like salt and vinegar flavoured crisps (which I don't like anyway) and vinegar covered chips.  Basically I need to step away from the vinegar.  And other stinging liquids that might make their way into the numerous tiny cuts I have all over my thumbs.  Also, why is it that my thumbs have taken the brunt of this?  Shouldn't the fingers have suffered too?  I thought the thumbs were the most hardy.  Apparently not.  Well, I've done enough folding to at least last us over the Easter long weekend.  My thumbs can rest until then.  Maybe next time I'll wear gloves.

Little Stalky Has a Nice Day

Today is my day off after a rather hectic 5 days working at the holiday park.  And today has so far been one of those perfectly relaxing days where one can't help but smile.  I awoke early to blue skies and sunshine.  The house was - and continues to be - tidy and all the ironing had been done.  I knew I had a guilt free day of doing whatever the hell I wanted to do.  It's a good way to start the morning.  So I've been out in town, pottering around and enjoying the sunshine.  I've sorted a few bills, which always makes me feel better.  Had a nice chat with the lady in the bank.  I had a look around a pottery exhibition and came home with a funky little spoon holder that I was able to buy with the change in my purse.  Had a nice chat with the man who made the spoon holder.  A spoon holder, by the way, is the size of a mini plate with a lip thus allowing the cook to rest a spoon on the counter without getting sauce / tea / stuff on the counter top.  Excellent.  Then I wandered over to the library, got me some new books, got Mystical Roo a book on surfing.  Had a nice chat with the librarian.  On to the post office to collect Mystical Roo's wetsuit.  I didn't stop to chat here as the lady behind the counter scares me.  I made up for this by getting a fresh juice on the way back to the flat and having a chat with the man behind the counter.  I guess it seems like a fairly ordinary day but there's something really nice about having no pressure to be anywhere or to do anything.  And I think today I felt like part of a community.  Little Stalky with her library bag, nattering to the locals like a proper member of society.  It was nice.  And now I've come home and it's only just hit 10.30, which means I have the whole day ahead of me.  I plan mostly to read.  It's going to be great.    

The Cold Snap

I'm definitely acclimatised.  We've had a recent change in temperature, struggling to reach the low twenties and it feels frickin' freezing!  I'm pretty sure that a few years ago that would have felt comfortably warm.  Now it's positively chilly.  And when the sun goes down?  My God!  I stepped out of the office at about 19.00 last night, in the dark and I shivered.  I actually shivered.  The drop in temperature can also be measured by the amount of people coming into reception to ask for extra blankets.  We'll be running out of blankets at this rate.  I want to tell people to turn the heating up but then maybe they're being energy conscious.  The houses in Australia are great in the summer, very good at staying cool but crap in the winter and not very good at staying warm.  They're designed for the heat and so when we do get a cold snap they seem unable to cope.  There's no double glazing, there's no central heating and so many houses have tiles rather than carpet.  I came home last night and there was a breeze in the house.  A breeze.  We have a rather handy reverse cycle air conditioning unit here but after last year's electricity bill we're never using it again.  So I came home and put on jogging bottoms, socks, my Norwich football shirt (OTBC) and my dressing gown.  A stylish look for the lady who likes to lounge.  And with Mystical Roo in Melbourne I've lost my in-bed radiator.  There's this dodgy cold patch on his side of the bed that I have to stay away from.  If I accidentally roll over there in the night then the cold of it wakes me up.  It's like there's a breeze in the bed.  The dressing gown is out in the morning and the slippers are on.  And I'm looking at my magical clock, which tells me that it's twenty degrees at 07.49.  And I feel cold.  I'm turning Australian.  I've never been great in the cold but this is ridiculous.  What am I going to do when we visit England?  I'll have to whip out the earmuffs.

Little Stalky and Mystical Roo Relay for Life

This year Mystical Roo and I will be taking part in Relay for Life, where we will "relay"for 24 hours in order to raise money for the Cancer Council.  Relay for Life came to our town last year and we managed to raise something like $64,000.  We as in the town, not we as in me and Mystical Roo.  We're not that good.  So we're doing it again this year as it was great fun and also helps to raise money for a wonderful cause.  We join as part of my team from work and in the weeks before the Relay we'll be doing various fundraising activities as we (the town) try to beat last year's total.  Over Easter we'll be having a bake sale, for which I'm hoping Ammy will whip me up some of her famous cheese straws, a fundraising BBQ and raffle.  We've also got things like guess how many jaffas are in the jar.  I know some of you are wondering what the hell a jaffa is and I can tell you now that they're rather yummy orange flavoured chocolate type things.  Yes.  At last year's BBQ I was helping with the spraying of exciting colours into small children's hair.  Dangerous.  Not only because I don't really click with kids but because I was let loose with a colourful hair spray.  I know that my own hair was sprayed green.  A good look.  I ended up going for stripes and spots (which went down very well) and managed to avoid getting any kids in the eye.  Result.  On the day of the Relay we'll set up the tent and then start walking.  We, me and Mystical Roo, don't walk for 24 hours straight but we, the town, will walk for 24 hours straight.  The idea is to have at least one person from your team walking at all times.  Hence the tent.  We go in a circuit and change directions on the sound of a horn.  I assume this is to stop us from getting dizzy.  Along the way you walk past other teams' camps and can buy various fundraising items.  I got myself a corn on the cob and Mystical Roo had to empty his pockets a number of times as we passed the sweet stand over and over and over.  As well as raising money, the Relay is also used to remember those who have been lost to cancer and support those who are fighting it.  There is an overwhelming feeling of togetherness as a community comes together to try and do something positive.  Mystical Roo and I will be relaying from the 31st of April to the 1st of May.  If you'd like to donate to our team then you can follow this link:  Easties - East Beach Holiday Park : Relay For Life: Cancer Council NSW 

Little Stalky's Hair: Menace to Society

I have a lot of hair.  I've always had a lot of hair.  I always thought I had thick hair but the hairdresser said I actually have quite fine hair; there's just a lot of it.  I've had my hair long for as long (ha ha) as I can remember.  This is mostly down to laziness because I can't be bothered to style my hair and like that I can a) go for the beachy look or b) clip my hair up.  Easy.  But the trouble with long hair and a lot of it is that it gets everywhere.  Everywhere.  And the house is starting to protest.  My hair gets all over the carpet, especially in the bedroom.  I figure I have to hoover it up but the Dyson gets very angry.  I can't blame it.  My hair wraps its way around roller bit and then chokes it up.  I'm constantly having to de-hair the hoover to ensure that it doesn't conk out on me.  But I don't know what else to do.  I can't not hoover up the hair.  I'm a hoover addict.  I don't see how else I can remove the hair from the carpet.  The other problem is the shower because my hair clogs up the drain.  Clogs it up!  Even as a child I was the bane of the shower's life.  We had to get special plug sieve type thing just to stop the hair going down the drain.  I don't have that option here as the drain is flush with the tiles and there's nothing we can use to stop the hair.  But I know the hair must be stopped.  Or the water will stop draining and the bathroom will flood.  My hair has the power to cause floods!  Tis madness.  Madness!  But what can I do.  I refuse to shave my head.  I think I would look ridiculous.  Maybe I need to wear a hat around the house and start showering on the beach.  Or maybe I need to stop talking about random hair because actually, it's a bit gross.  Sorry. 

Nice Guys Finish Last

I had another one of those days yesterday which had me wondering why on earth I continue to work in customer service.  It was just one rude customer after another, complaining about things (the price mostly) which I have no control over.  At what point did it become acceptable to turn up and launch into the girl standing behind the counter about how you don't want to pay school holiday prices, arguing that the school holidays don't technically start until Monday and how it's "sickening" that I get away with it.  How I get away with it?  Excuse me but I don't think the reception staff set the prices or make the rules.  We just have to enforce the rules whilst taking an unreasonable amount of abuse from someone who seems to forget that you're human.  What I find unbearable is that far too often these people end up getting their own way.  They stomp their feet, they make unreasonable demands, they shout and swear and at the end of it something happens which means extra lengths are gone to to ensure this person is happy.  Because we daren't upset them in case they release their rage on us again.  This is wrong.  If there's a problem that is my fault or is our fault as a business then I will do my best to fix it, regardless of who you are, but if you're being unreasonable why should you get special treatment.  You can't be abusive to other people to get what you want.  And we shouldn't be encouraging this kind of behaviour.  In the same instance you'll then get the nicest couple in the world.  Polite and friendly with good manners and a smile.  And those poor buggers will end up next to the grumpy family of doom and be disturbed by their noisy antics.  And the nice couple won't say anything.  They'll just put up with it and won't come to us for help, even though they should and it's their right.  I will continue to do my job to the best of my ability and I'll be polite to everyone in equal measure.  But I've decided that, if I can help it, I will not bow to the unreasonable demands of an unreasonable person just because they're being abusive.  Nasty behaviour should not be rewarded.  It should be frowned upon.  And nice people shouldn't be walked over just because there's a louder person nearby.  I'm standing up for the nice folk.  It's time they stopped finishing last. 

Mystical Roo Buys a Surfboard

Following his recent surf lesson Mystical Roo decided that he wanted to buy his own surfboard.  And he's gone and done just that.  I didn't have much input in this but know that Mystical Roo has been liaising with Band Man to ensure he buys the best board for him.  Apparently, because he's a beginner, he needs a nice long board.  When he improves he can then downsize to a shorter board.  So Mystical Roo ordered his board and his wetsuit and is now prepared to be a proper surfer.  He actually went to collect his surfboard, which was hanging out at the warehouse, last night.  He was on big brother duty last night and went to collect Monster Noggin from a night out so she didn't have to get the train with all the scary train dwellers.  Yes, there are train dwelling sharks out there.  So on his way there he picked up his new surfboard and brought it home.  I didn't think much of this as I, having to get up for work this morning, was asleep.  When I got up this morning I came and sat down in my usual spot - the desk - and then noticed the massive surfboard propped up against the wall.  Massive surfboard!  Mystical Roo informs me it's 8'2.  Good God.  It's a beast.  Though a rather nice shade of red I think.  I have to wonder where the surfboard plans to live.  I think Mystical Roo thinks it will be a good addition to the flat.  It will give it a by the beach look.  I'm less convinced but if it makes him happy....Anyway, apparently a wetsuit will be delivered  somewhen and then Mystical Roo can happily surf his way through the winter.  As I'll be working all weekend I think Mystical Roo has plans to surf the day away.  Well it will be good exercise for him.  Maybe when he gets better I might be tempted to give it a little go.  In shallow water though and on the baby waves.   With the babies.  He should be a pro in time for Bear Z and Rabby's summer visit and then they can have a go too.  I bet they're excited about that!  I know I am.      

Snuggie Wearing Stalky Gets her Write On

Amongst other things - receptionist extraordinaire, protector of plants, super snuggie wearing Stalky - I'm also a writer.  Today I've sent a sample of my book off to a publisher in the hope that someone, one day, will want to publish my work.  I've been writing stories since I was very small.  I remember writing adventures on lined paper, which I kept in a folder.  Then I moved on to a computer and started typing out my stories, reading them to El Kenco as they progressed.  This is one of the reasons why I'm now a ridiculously speedy typist and sometimes referred to as "book girl" by narrow minded folk from school who somehow still think it's cool to mock someone who has a passion for writing.  Luckily for me I don't care about those people and don't actually have to bother with them anymore as I now live half way round the world.  This is not the reason why I moved.  The thing is, I don't think I could not write.  I love to write.  I didn't decide one day that I might try to write a book, I just had a need to write a story.  It's like an overwhelming urge that just grips you and sees you sat at your computer for hours on end as you disappear into a world entirely of your making.  I still have the stories that I wrote when I was younger and I cringe when I read them but I remember how much I loved writing them.  I just hope that my current work is of a higher standard.  It's very hard putting your work out there for other people to judge.  Rejection is inevitable and I never expect quick results but every time I send my work off I hold on to a tiny sliver of hope.  That maybe someone will read my book and think it worthy of publishing.  So fingers crossed everyone!  We'll see what happens. 

Little Stalky Tries to Wash her Blanket Type Thing

Yesterday, after a morning of painting, I decided it would be a good idea to try and wash the blanket type thing that lives at the end of our bed.  It's sort of half blanket, half duvet, half throw.  I'm aware that my blanket type thing is now made up of three halves but that makes it even more special.  I like my blanket type thing and thought it was rather stylish with its matching pillow cases and warm gold and brown colours.  It also does rather a good job of keeping you warm on the nights when it's not quite cold enough for a full on duvet but not quite warm enough for just a sheet.  But the blanket type thing does require washing and that is a huge pain in the bum.  Not only is it hand wash only, it's also massive and barely fits in the washing machine.  Our old washing machine could take about 7kg but as we all know this washing machine was evil.  The new, less evil, washing machine can only take about 5.5kg.  But me being me I figured I'd give it a go anyway.  Most washing machines seem to have a hand wash setting now and to be honest, there was no way I was fitting the blanket type thing in the sink.  So I shoved him in, got him going and hoped for the best.  Alas the best did not prevail.  I opened the washing machine to see that there was congealed detergent everywhere.  It had no room to move and the water wasn't doing its thing so there was just white powder all over the place.  Bugger.  But I was not to be deterred.  I heaved the blanket type thing into a new position and set the cycle going again, this time without detergent.  My hope was that another rinse would get rid of the detergent and leave my blanket type thing smelling all clean and fresh.  The 2nd time round I got pretty much the same results.  I ended up lugging the blanket type thing out into the lounge to hang over the banister.  My next plan was to let the detergent dry and then shake off the powder at a later stage.  A cunning plan that didn't work out.  The detergent started coming off in clumps and landing on the carpet!  Not the carpet!  Not when I'd only just hoovered.  So I got the hoover out again and was most distressed to find that the gooey detergent did not want to be sucked up by the Dyson.  No.  It wanted to sit there and make a mess of my floor.  I had to get a cloth, wipe it all up, wait for the patch to dry and then hoover.  What a pain.  And still my blanket type thing was covered in white patches of detergent gone wrong.  I was having one of those moments when I wished I'd never begun the stupid task.  I should have just let the blanket type thing get smelly and sprayed it once in a while to mask the odour.  Much less hassle.  I ended up leaving it over night and woke up this morning to realise that it was still covered in detergent.  My hope had been that midnight faeries would come and tidy things up.  But they did not.  So this morning I figured I was better off not putting it back in the washing machine.  I thought about rinsing it in the sink but remembered my previous problem of the sink being too small.  So I ran a bath for my blanket type thing and shoved it in.  This seemed to work a treat.  It got all of the manky detergent off and rinsed everything nicely.  The only problem is the blanket type thing is very big.  And a very big blanket type thing soaked in water becomes impossibly heavy.  So heavy in fact that I can't actually move it from the bath tub.  I had plans of hanging it out on the line but I can see that's not going to happen until Mystical Roo gets home.  There's no way I can lift that thing on my own.  And I'm obviously not getting any help from the midnight faeries.  So now I have the blanket type thing, dripping wet, lounging in my bathtub.  Draining I hope.  And not going smelly.  Of course the floor is covered in even more detergent so I've had to whip the hoover out again.  I think it's sick of the taste of washing powder.  It will protest if I bring it out again.  So, washing the blanket type thing is a task I wish I'd never started.  When it is finally dry and clean I think I'll want to pack it away and only bring it out on special occasions because washing this beast is a mission!  I started yesterday lunchtime and I'm still doing it now.

Little Stalky Gets Her Paint On

Today I've been painting.  I've been let loose with a paint brush and a big tin of red paint.  Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin will be doing an expo in Melbourne shortly and I was helping out by painting the stand.  Red.  I'm actually not bad at painting and do rather a neat job.  It's just everything else that gets messed up.  Myself included.  I was looking rather stylish when I left the house this morning in pink jogging bottoms, an over sized red t-shirt borrowed from Mystical Roo and a pair of flip flops.  Then I got to wear pink gloves and use red paint.  How very colour coordinated of me.  So I spent the morning painting the stand, taking extreme care to make sure the paint was even but not noticing the paint I was dripping on the floor and onto my trousers.  Oh well.  I can't be perfect.  At least I'm not as bad as El Kenco who, when helping me to paint my house in England, managed to get gloss paint all over her face.  We're still not sure how it happened but by the end of the day there was definitely more paint on El Kenco than there was on my skirting boards.  When we were kids I must confess that I thought it would be a good idea to cover my hands in blue, gloss paint but then, I was a kid.  I think it took a lot of white spirit to get that lot off.  Not cool.  But I've done a fair bit of painting since then and have learned several valuable tips.  Always sand before you paint.  Wear latex gloves to protect your hands from paint - especially gloss!  Wrap your paintbrushes in clingfilm when you're having a tea break.  And never let El Kenco near your skirting boards! 

Mystical Roo: Snooze Button

At the moment Mystical Roo and I are trying to get up before work to do some early morning yoga.  So far we've failed.  The alarm goes off just before 06.00 but we seem unable to take that step and drag ourselves from the warmth of bed.  Instead, the alarm is snoozed a number of times before my alarm finally goes off at 07.00 and we realise it's time to get up for breakfast.  Alas, we don't have time for a yoga session.  Bad us.  I really would love to start the day with a spot of yoga and I'm sure we both have good intentions when we go to bed but something changes over night and we seem to wake up exhausted.  How does that work?  Surely the point of a night's sleep is to wake up feeling refreshed.  I can't remember the last time I woke up feeling refreshed.  Personally I blame the insane dreams I have every night.  Maybe if my brain was allowed to chill out for a bit I might have a more restful night.  As it happens I normally end up tossing and turning, sometimes shouting and generally not having a restful night.  So when the alarm goes off in the morning, especially on a morning when I have to get up for work, I don't always feel that inclined to get out of bed.  I actually get quite angry at the alarm.  Now we have two alarms set.  Mystical Roo has his set early in case he feels like getting up for exercise and I have mine set to the latest it can possibly be before I run the risk of being late for work.  So when Mystical Roo's alarm goes off at 06.00 I want it to stop beeping at me and be quiet.  But it's on Mystical Roo's side of the bed.  I've tried leaning over him in the past but my arms simply cannot reach.  I'm not going to get up and walk around the bed because that would defeat the object of my ignoring the alarm.  So I treat Mystical Roo as my snooze button.  He somehow seems to sleep through the beeping of the alarm or ignores the beeping of the alarm.  Either way there are times when he just lays there whilst I'm willing the incessant beeping to stop.  So I'll shuffle.  I'll huffle (another official word).  I'll make it painfully clear that the alarm clock is frustrating me.  Sometimes this works.  Other times not so much.  When this fails then Mystical Roo will normally get a poke.  My leg will accidentally shoot out and get Mystical Roo in the shin or my elbow will have ideas of poking Mystical Roo in the ribcage.  This normally does the trick.  And although I'll get in trouble for the poking - Mystical Roo claims not to believe my defence that I was asleep and had no idea what I was doing - Mystical Roo will hit the snooze button and I can snaffle another precious few minutes of sleep.  Of course the whole thing happens again five minutes later when the snooze has worn off.  The other morning there was great confusion when a bird was thrown into the mix.  I was actually genuinely not fully awake at this point and all I could hear was this constant chirping.  I remember cursing Mystical Roo's alarm clock and wondering why it was set on the weekend.  Then I remember doing my usual and wondering why Mystical Roo wasn't hitting the damned snooze button.  Did he not hear the incessant ringing of the alarm clock?  No.  Because it wasn't the alarm clock at all.  It was a random bird getting his morning sing on.  Oops.  So Mystical Roo generally acts as quite a good snooze button.  But only when he has control over the alarm clock.  As far as I'm aware Mystical Roo has yet to exert any power over the birds. 

Little Stalky and Mystical Roo go to the Jazz Festival

We've just had the annual jazz and blues festival come through town and once again it's been a feast for the ears.  Things kicked off on Friday night and carried on through until Sunday evening with various bands turning up at local cafes and bars to perform their tunes.  The highlight for me is the concert in the park, which ran yesterday from about 10.30 all the way through to 16.30.  We had perfect weather for it.  Blue skies, sunshine and a gentle breeze that just took the edge off of the heat.  Mystical Roo and I made our way down to the park for lunchtime, armed with home made pizza, olives and wine.  And a chair.  Just the one.  Mystical Roo got the towel.  We set up a little camp, grazed on lunch, supped on wine and enjoyed the music.  It was a perfect Sunday afternoon.  We were even photographed by the local paper.  Who knows, Mystical Roo and Little Stalky may now appear on the social pages.  Looking rather classy with our green, plastic wine glasses.  Oh yeah.  My favourite musician and one who I've seen on a number of occasions is Paul Robert Burton.  Sometimes he plays solo and other times he's with a band but every time I find myself mesmerised by his sound.  I couldn't necessarily tell you what that sound is but I know that I like it.  So much so that I bought an album.  A signed album no less.  It's very good.  The perfect accompaniment to a glass of wine on the balcony with your Mystical Roo.  So that's another event attended by Mystical Roo and Little Stalky and another event that the town has put on for free.  I do feel very lucky that I get to enjoy this kind of thing, in such beautiful surroundings, without having to spend lots of money.  I hope everyone appreciates this and that the town continue to support this wonderful event.  Keep up the good work, town.  We salute you. 

Daylight Saving

Today - or rather, at some point last night - our clocks went back.  I like it when the clocks go back because it means an extra hour in bed but I dislike it because it marks our descent back into winter.  And I don't like winter.  It's lucky for me that the clocks always seem to change on my day off.  If ever they were to change on a day I had to work I could almost guarantee that I would turn up at the wrong time: either an hour late or an hour early.  I'd been thinking about the clocks going back but when it actually came to it I totally forgot.  After a night of red wine and monopoly (crazy Saturday night for us twenty-somethings) Mystical Roo and I went to bed and made no mention of the changing our clocks.  So when I woke up this morning and suddenly remembered I felt quite pleased that although my phone was telling me it was 07.00 it was actually 06.00.  Excellent.  Or not so excellent.  After drifting back to sleep and waking up at what I thought was 07.00, I ambled into the living room to find that the clock on the wall indicated it was 09.00.  Major confusion.  And then frustration at having slept in.  Then more confusion.  Then realisation.  The damned phone was way ahead of me.  So clever in it's technology that it knew the clocks were going back even if I didn't.  So at some point in the night the clever little phone had readjusted its settings and corrected its time accordingly.  So when I woke up thinking it was really 06.00 it was actually 07.00 all along.  What's the world coming to when I can't remember to change the clock but the clock can do it itself.  Scary stuff if you ask me.  Not to mention confusing.  If the phone is changing the time by itself, who knows what else its up to.  

The Random Moth

We currently have a random moth living in the kitchen.  And he's hogging the sink.  Actually he appears to be guarding the tap.  I first noticed him when I went to do some washing up and realised there was something dark and flappy sitting on the tap.  At first I thought it might have been a random mushroom but, oh no, it was a random moth.  He was watching me rather closely but didn't seem that bothered that I intended to do the washing up.  So, with me watching him and he watching me I moved to turn on the tap, with the the moth sat atop.  It's one of those lever like taps where you lift it up to turn on the water.  Well, the moth just sat there.  Up he went with the tap and down he came again when I turned it off.  Just watching.  And possibly enjoying the ride.  I went about my washing up, careful not to splash my new moth friend and then went about my business.  The moth remained.  When I next returned to the kitchen the random moth was still there, though now in a slightly new position, thus confirming that he was indeed a live and not just a dead moth who had landed on my tap.  I nodded a silent greeting and went about my tasks.  This time the moth was a little more mobile, strutting back and forth across the sink whilst I washed the dishes.  It was like he was monitoring progress.  Marching back and forth to ensure the bubbles behaved and the mugs were properly cleaned.   Once again, I finished my task and then ambled off somewhere to do something.  On my return I found the moth back on the tap, patiently awaiting another ride.  I turned the tap on to rinse out a glass and turned it off.  The moth seemed happy.  So, I seem to have myself a random moth living on my sink.  And he seems to like watching the washing up.  He is Mr Moth - surveyor of suds, watcher of water.  I don't know where he came from and I don't know how long he'll stay. All I know is that he's a random moth.  

The Break In

Last night Mystical Roo made the discovery that someone - probably someone evil - has smashed in the door to our storage cupboard in the garage.  Ours is a shared garage where we have our allocated space and a small cupboard behind this space, in which we can store various items.  In our case we store a massive box of Mystical Roo's CDs (he was once a DJ), my costumes (I was once an actress - ha!) and other bits and bobs such as winter shoes and suitcases.  Things that you don't use on a day to day basis and take up too much room in the flat.  It doesn't appear that the thieves actually stole anything (now there's a contradicting sentence) but we'll have to have a proper check when we get back from work tonight.  God knows what they were hoping to find in there.  It's not exactly a place where one would store expensive items.  Maybe they'd hoped to stumble upon some tools or something but instead found an unmovable box of CDs with Abba's greatest hits sat on the top.  Perhaps they were just mindless vandals who thought it would be fun to kick in someone's door.  After all, it's not like we have enough to worry about at the moment.  Kick us while we're down why don't you.  You scum.  I try and take a light hearted approach to this but it does make me very angry.  It's such an invasion of privacy.  What gives anyone else the right to damage someone else's property (our landlords in this case) and help themselves to other people's things.  No one has the right.  The other frustrating thing is the fact that no one else should even be able to gain access to the garage.  It's "underground" and has a door that can only controlled if you have the key.  The only other access is for people living in the flats above it.  Therefore, we've either got thieving neighbours (which is a possibility considering the newbies who seem to have taken up residence opposite us) or, as Mystical Roo suspects, our helpful neighbours haven't been bothering to close the garage door when they leave, thus leaving it wide open for whoever is walking past.  That's very lazy.  It's on a remote lock for Christ's sake.  All you have to do is press a button and the thing will shut itself.  So now we've got to liaise with the estate agent to get the door fixed and ensure that all of our belongings are still there.  I have a massive collection of Sims discs that were being stored in there but - sigh of relief - I've already confirmed that they're still there.  In fact Mystical Roo has brought them up to the flat for me.  I think I'll be nervous about storing anything down there now as it's obviously not that secure.  And the rogue washing machine was there too!  You'd have thought he'd have kicked up a stink when he saw intruders.  Perhaps not.  It must be a kind of payback for putting it out there in the first place.  I can see I'm going to have to engage the services of a land dwelling shark.  Then, I'll have a land dwelling, cupboard dwelling shark.  That would sort the buggers out!