I'm back. It took me awhile to get over the messy break up with my last laptop, but I am ready to get on with my writing life. Backing up after every third word typed may seem somewhat superfluous. I deemed it to be necessary after exhausting every obscenity known to man when the last laptop went down like the proverbial bag of spuds. After completing another draft of my book, I realised I had created the literary equivalent of a tumor and consigned the book to the too hard basket for the time being. A break was needed from my own writing style and (ab)sense of humour, and now I'm back writing, for better or much worse.
It seems fitting, to me at least, and possibly you as well if you've still reading after all the tripe I've posted in the past, that I spin a yarn or two about some mildly entertaining things that have happened since I last posted. Some were life threatening, others life affirming. Mostly, they were idiotic, and ultimately expensive. Hence, I find myself in a similar position to what I have been finding myself in of late; ie. unemployed. That state of affairs allows me a fair degree of time to wittle away aimlessly in front of a laptop.
The time spent between posts has been a relatively productive, if uneventful period though. The last part of 2007 was dedicated to spending far more money than I was so called 'earning' from the so called 'government' so called 'job seeking'. The implication being that travel was off the agenda for quite awhile. A bank balance of 60 cents was not conducive to world wide jaunts, or even a Choc Wedge from the milk bar these days. Mum's threats to pimp me out were serious enough to end my world record threatening stretch of procrastination.
3 months off provided more than sufficient time to come up with a master plan of considerable merit. I chose to ignore those possibilities and without applying much effort to the process, I got a job on a nearby orchard. They were seeking an experienced couple, but must have been desperate enough to consider someone without a partner or experience. I repaid their faith by demonstrating that once I have to work, I tend to work harder than most. After Adam expressed an interest in working there too, they repaid my dedication by hiring about 5 other people instead. Adam had an acrimonious separation from Gemma, and was looking for work as far from Lismore as possible. Once they realised I was turning sour like milk in sunlight, they put him on and the two of us worked our way towards the black by picking apples.
Not with any sort of regularity though. The boss, Panic-Station-Pete as we dubbed him, called an end to picking as soon as his bunion starting playing up. Befitting his paranoia, the farm was experiencing its worse yield in over 40 years and there was as many days off as there was on. So the time on the farm passed pleasantly enough, but the bank still didn't take the bounty off my head, and Asia still seemed as far away as Uranus. (Ah Uranus, the planet that proves at least some scientists have a sense of humour!)
The summer months on the farm presented beautiful conditions, if skin cancer is your thing. I sweated, burned and peeled my way through Jan & Feb before March offered idyllic conditions for being outdoors. March incidentally being the month Adam started in, possibly hampering his appreciation of such nice weather by not experiencing the worst of it. I loved being out in nature, the breezes, the clouds, hearing birds sing songs not irritating enough for radio, hearing the same birds being blown away by a shotgun.
The only down side to a primary industry was that it satisfied a need we share with all living animals; to eat. There wasn't many humane ways to deal with animals that make the most of a smorgasbord without thinking they are stealing from anyone. Gas guns frightened the piss out of everyone at irregular intervals, and deafened anyone within 100 metres. Speakers playing the sounds of birds of prey only amused the thieves and made them think they have company for their pillaging of Panic-Station-Pete's profits. A shot gun didn't work as a good deterrent either, particularly when the birds number in their hundreds and the red neck using it couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat.
I just turned up every morning, still asleep but experienced enough at bluffing not to be suspected, and got the job done. Somedays it rained non stop and only apathy stopped me from just walking away. Other days it was so nice out that I was thankful I'm too dumb to work in an office. Wandering the lanes daydreaming more than picking apples seemed closer to our origins and more natural than the things at home that helped me forget about another day of sunburn or drenched dungarees.
