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.