Well, it’s
12.25 and that’s breakfast out of the way … OK, it was blunch. It was breakfast
themed – bacon, eggs, mushrooms and a cuppa – but the time suggested otherwise,
hence blunch. Reckon it’ll catch on?
The weather
is pretty shitful … I actually put on a shirt this morning (yeah, over a blue
singlet), such was the biting wind as I was enjoying the first cuppa and smoke
for the day.
It was
actually cold enough, and rain was threatening, for me to grab a tarp and
spread it across the rear and partially up the side of the annexe. Now, it’s
like being in my old lounge room but with the benefit of fresh air. After
yesterday’s heat, this morning’s cold was a rude awakening.
The sunshine
yesterday was the perfect opportunity to do a job that has been bugging me for
a while … draining one of the trailer’s two water tanks and giving it a bloody
good flush. I know how much better I operate after a good dose of fibre. I
reckon the tank flush became necessary when I started to notice little extra
bits in my cups of tea. “That can’t be good,” I said to myself.
And given
that I was having a guest stay for the long weekend, I had to clean up my act. So,
out came the toolkit and I hit the horizontal i.e. flat on my back under the
trailer and pretty soon I had disconnected the bottom-most pipe into the tank
and placed it in my drainage hose, which runs, yeah, to the drain (gravity fed,
of course.
After about
15 minutes of draining (yeah, it was draining for me too), it stopped running.
Time to put the fresh-water hose into the tank and, running at full bore, I gave
it a flush.
After a
while, I did an extra bits check and they seemed to have disappeared. Job done,
I thought, and again hit the horizontal (this time lying in a pool of water),
replaced the hose and all was well with the world.
I went into
the annexe to check the sink supply and Jesus wept, the extension cord on which
I am running the laptop, fridge and lights was, like me earlier, lying in a
pool of water. This can’t be good, I thought, and it was with some trepidation
that I picked up a handful of wet plugs and then moved the fridge to dry ground.
There was no shock, horror. Until, that is, I ran the tap over the sink. The
extra bits were back, although not as plentiful as before.
Perhaps it’s
just as well that my friend is now not coming for the weekend. I’m sure she
would not have liked the extra bits. Anyway, that’s not a problem because I’m
heading to her place in Melbourne for the long weekend.
It was time
for a cooling drink of water (from a bottle, not extra bitsville) and to make a
call to see how son Liam was getting on. He’s busy renovating my niece’s bathroom
and not too far from finishing. But wait, there’s more. My niece, Lisa, and her
husband, Shannon, are in Las Vegas and had been on the phone to Liam. Seems
they were impressed with the large plasma TV screen recessed into the wall of
their hotel bathroom and they want one. So, he’s back to the drawing board.
Liam was
just leaving for the hardware shop to buy more supplies. He rang me, not long
after he arrived, with welcome news. “There’s a product right in front of me
and it has your name on it. It’s called Pour & Go. It’s for flushing out
water tanks in vans or whatever.”
I thanked
him and headed to the Apollo Bay hardware shop, where I now have two mates,
Christos and Rohan, to get some.
“Sorry, we
don’t have it, said a helpful girl. “I’ll check with the boys out the back and
see if we have anything similar.” No go, it seems. Then another helpful girl
had a check of the interweb thing. “You can get it at Mitre 10. The nearest
shop is about a three-hour round trip.” Shit.
Then she
tracked down a distributor, Farmers’ Warehouse, and a 1300 number.
I thanked
her and rang. “Sure,” said Sam, the helpful girl, “We can get it delivered to
your campground. It’s $49.95 for a bottle plus $15 postage and it will take about
3-5 days. There’s enough in the bottle to treat 22,000 litres of water.” “Done,”
I said.
I pondered
how long it would take to use 22,000 litres of water. Now, to put it into
perspective, if I was to drink three litres of beer a day for the next 20 years
(yeah, I know it means cutting down) that means that in those two decades I’d
have consumed 21,900 litres of frothy stuff. That’s a lot of water and I reckon
it was money well spent.
FULL OF
BEANS
I was
sitting around on the weekend (there’s a surprise) reading a book (another
surprise) when I was surprised by a big cuddly koala wandering across the
campground. I high-tailed it in pursuit and followed him up the steps that lead
to the Great Ocean Road (not a good place for a koala). My main job was to stop
him heading to the bitumen and to try to convince a woman who tagged along to
stop trying to feed it bread. I thought about suggesting she try a gumleaf
sandwich (without the mustard), but she was an English tourist and I’m sure it
would have gone through to the keeper.
The little
fella stayed away from the road and spent a good deal of time trying to climb a
Lavazza coffee sign, at which point I grabbed my phone and snapped a few more pictures.
Finally, he went bush and I returned to my digs. As I walked past my
neighbours, the bloke (a truck driver) said: “They’re nothin’ but a fuckin’
nuisance on the road.” Nice, I thought, what a caring, sharing soul you are.
I was
sitting in the tent looking at the pictures and I thought, why not send them to
Lavazza to see if they want to use them in, say, a funny caption competition or
something. For a fee, of course.
I finally snagged
an email address and sent them off. The response was quick. Yep, the PR bloke
was interested in buying one and asked me how much. I suggested it was his job
to know stuff like that and that he should make me an offer. Now, I’m waiting.
My son,
Joel, suggested asking Lavazza for a sign and taking it on the road and
photographing it in all sorts of rugged, beautiful places or with odd things
(there are plenty out there). I may just do that. For a fee, of course.
Dunno what
the score is in Melbourne, but by my reckoning all its flies are holidaying at
Skenes Creek. I’ve never seen so many. And they stick like shit to a blanket.
There’s even a couple of dozen that are, like me, addicted to my tobacco pouch.
Then there are the ones that have figured my cup of tea is the campground pool,
so they join the extra bits.
I can tell
that they’re holidaying because every night at about seven they give me a break
and go home to bed. Or perhaps they go out to dinner.
They
certainly would have enjoyed mine last night. Beef and burgundy snags, potatoes
in their jackets, with lashings of butter and parsley, and steamed carrots,
broccoli and bok choy … oh, and a none-too-small bucket of shiraz-cabernet.
It was the
flies’ loss.
THE BARBIE:
A NEW INTERPRETATION
And speaking
of dinner, I suggested a few days ago to a backpacker bloke that we have a
barbie at the spot near my tent and a couple of jars. Done.
I spent some
time late in the afternoon making a tossed salad and dressing and an excellent
potato salad with spring onions, wafer-thin celery, boiled eggs and mayo.
We’d
arranged to meet at 6.30. At about 6.45, one of the girls wandered by and said he
has already cooked and he’s eating and that he was at the other end of the
campground. Oh, that’s nice, I thought. I wandered up there and there he was
tucking into a couple of barbecue lamb chops, some bread and about a pint of
tomato sauce, all washed down with a litre of Coke.
I put my
dead beast on the grille and offered him some salad as I poured myself a large
glass of red.
It seems the
English have a different idea when it comes to having a barbie.
