tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48827992345067517972024-03-05T05:07:12.086+00:00Pass The SuncreamRiding on the white wings of the wind...to find a pot of gold.Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-56235969660001311192013-11-23T04:29:00.002+00:002013-11-23T04:29:17.208+00:00Mooo-ve<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Dahl made it through the night! Maybe he'll be a pet galah after all! You may also have noticed that I haven't reported any deaths for a while. We have a happy healthy group of little ones who are growing incredibly quickly. The drenching must have worked because despite a few deaths in the aftermath the goats are all looking healthy and happy and more like goats should. After a morning spent raking the yard we went back over to Koondrook to 'move the cows'. I wasn't completely 100% on what this would involve but I was thrilled to find out on arrival that little old Walter was termed as one of the cows. Walter the one tonne bull. My shirt was definitely quite red and the only protection I had was a stick. A STICK against an enormous bull! So off we went, Walter leading the way and me trailing behind with my stick. Thankfully Walter is either colourblind or the red thing is a myth and we made it to the other cows without issue. Then K and I walked alongside and behind the cows (all 8 of them) and ushered them to their new paddock at the very back of the farm. Cows are huge. And the wee a LOT. Cows successfully instated to their new domain, we were dropped back at Murrabit where we played with the little ones and had a lovely afternoon. Timmy the house goat came with us to put the big goats back in for the night. We've stopped letting him inside during the day because the other goats don't like him (what with him being precious and spoiled) but he comes in for the evening and is most excellent for snuggles. He might be a spoiled goat but he's our spoiled goat.<br />All in all a great day full of the joys of farming!<br /><br />But after every farming high there comes a farming low. After the joys of yesterday today was very much a reminder that farming isn't all fun and laughter. I am over it.<br /></div>
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The highlight of the day was seeing the resident big reds (they're Roos FYI) jumping the fence (that's a high jump). The morning was spent raking the yard. Again. Then it started to rain and, joy of joys, we were taken to Koondrook where we swept poo out of the unused dairy. For ages. Sometimes it is all about looking busy. We swept and shoveled and swept and shoveled. Chris' nice streak was officially over - no greeting or small talk, just the occasional sly smile as we carried out menial tasks.<br /></div>
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Soon enough Ayrlie came back from work and she baked scones. Imagine our delight. All 5 of us sat around the table for freshly baked scones with all the trimmings. They smelled great but she said they probably weren't very nice like most cooks - never big yourself up etc. I took a mouthful and there was something odd about it I couldn't quite place. Perhaps I'd used a soapy knife to cut it? Next mouthful. Maybe a soapy hand put them in the bowl. I had a quick look around the table and saw 4 slightly confused faces. Another mouthful and it clicked. I think there was a tsp/tbsp confusion with the bicarbonate of soda. You know when you eat something and it makes your mouth feel very dry? Yeah, it was like that but soapy and I desperately didn't want to look ungrateful or rude so I kept going. Eventually Chris and his sense of humour piped up as he asked what was in them and at that point I lost it and dissolved into a fit of giggles unable to meet anyone's eye. She tried, but the terrible cake I'd made earlier in the week was better and that really was saying something. I think the rest of the batch went out for the chooks. Aware that we hadn't had shopping for a while Chris gave us some food to take home with us, namely a lump of corned beef (gag) , some post-prime veggies and a few fresh goods that were on their use by date. His generosity never ends!<br />> And the cherry on top of the icing of the cake that was a bad day? My electric blanket had failed to warm up. Disappointment in the extreme. I nearly went to spoon with K'marie.</div>
Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-68290134628345310522013-11-11T06:27:00.003+00:002013-11-11T06:27:51.057+00:00Flaming Galah!<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.294118); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been a while since we had any shopping so we started getting creative with the basic food we had. You'd be amazed at the calorific sweet treats you can muster up when bored and desperate! Over the next few days we attempted to bake with limited kitchenware in our below average kitchen. We baked a thank-you cake for Sarah (I was embarrassed to take it round) and some actually very tasty porridge cookies (should have offered those up as a gift instead). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Farm duties carried on as normal - a whole lot of goat herding and caring for a couple of ill kids (that did not make it). We stepped it up a bit on day 23. I jacked up the landcruiser to check the tyres (born to be a mechanic), faced my fear of flapping and picked up a chicken which, in hindsight, was to prepare me for the highlight of my farm work, nay, my time in Australia to date. The evening was progressing as usual. I was putting the kids to bed and K and Noel had gone to shut the goats in. They came back sooner than expected and I could hear K happily shouting above a god awful squawking. They had found an injured galah. A FLAMING GALAH! I mean can you imagine my joy? He was a feisty and angry galah. Luckily being on a farm kent plenty of cage material nearby so I managed to rustle up a small cage complete with perches, food and water in a matter of minutes for our newest recruit, Dahl. My hope for his survival are pretty slim since my googling has told me that if you see bone, euthanize...but I don't want to leave him for the cats so he is quiet and fed and hopefully recupe</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">rating outside. Imagine if he pulls trough and becomes a real life pet galah! Amazing. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-63001061620381408382013-11-11T06:14:00.000+00:002013-11-11T06:14:21.681+00:00Just the Two of Us<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 18</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ding Dong the Scot has gone. Today Alex finally rolled up his swag and left after what feels like a week of complaining. Don't get me wrong, for the most part He was good fun but goodness me that boy has a temper. With both Alexs gone it was just K and me left and we loved it! Our first day as a duo was fun even though it was spent over at the dreaded Koondrook farm. Noel took us over as we needed to do a couple of water runs for Farmer Chris. As we reached the grubby water channel for the second time it started to rain and Chris rang Noel and said not to worry and not to get wet. </span><br />
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This nice streak seems to be continuing! Since we already had the hoses in place we pumped it anyway so we were in the good books. More surprisingly is when we got back to the house he'd made us (a very tasty) lunch...and had meal time conversation. We were then instructed to have a tea and stay out of the rain...and wash up pretty much everything he owned in the kitchen (mosy of which was all covered in goat. Vom). We also had to take a 'couple of boxes' to his burning pile, a putrid heap of failed-to-burn-for-long-enough corpses, mouldy bread and rubbish. The boxes contained foetus and new kid corpses that looked like the result of a bad genetics experiment. The smell wasn't great but we didn't have to actually touch them this time so all in all definitely improving. As the day went on and the sky got darker we started to pine for our Little Ones. They'd been left alone in the cold and the rain all day (we'd usually put them in the pen when wet) so we were eager to return to see them. Well, I think we got a taster of maternal pride. When we got back to the farm we were greeted with the bleats from all of our kids bounding over, who couldn't be happier to see us. Even little Timmy was still warm and well. They'd succeeded in huddling in the dry (Rosalie's bed. With Rosalie.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58bXp5woTUj-8jhyphenhyphen61x3Ky8B0GFUk154b81tt3rc_qmI92fVym-3-z9I149tJvgZGpDVIQWay2-4eheHosOu3GEQJPJ-u0__CpXmejdTlZanJfhzQvAn9L13WEcRPf1GYRJ3CboE55Ig/s1600/IMG-20130808-WA0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58bXp5woTUj-8jhyphenhyphen61x3Ky8B0GFUk154b81tt3rc_qmI92fVym-3-z9I149tJvgZGpDVIQWay2-4eheHosOu3GEQJPJ-u0__CpXmejdTlZanJfhzQvAn9L13WEcRPf1GYRJ3CboE55Ig/s200/IMG-20130808-WA0013.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHn5OXoH3p8F8F_dWipbFb6LAYqinESKg3L_zjXOfISyyyRVbkKt6fUBRf1e5SbGqUsTtQbMQSDvvaS0b8I85QIJy_dbzUK4gJqgzKiykCKdct8TDFm9KTKNkifvuZhpyASXg9II9icBs/s1600/IMG-20130808-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHn5OXoH3p8F8F_dWipbFb6LAYqinESKg3L_zjXOfISyyyRVbkKt6fUBRf1e5SbGqUsTtQbMQSDvvaS0b8I85QIJy_dbzUK4gJqgzKiykCKdct8TDFm9KTKNkifvuZhpyASXg9II9icBs/s200/IMG-20130808-WA0003.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a duo, mostly with Noel making us 3, our task was to get a fence in the new paddock ready to electrify, sort of job that makes you feel practical as you set off with tools and wire and stuff. Even though to begin with we were just putting the plastic wire holder in. The two of us are also getting MUCH better at dealing with spiders. We still need to work on being less shrill but our ability to capture/remove and sometimes kill is greatly improving. Who needs a cat?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 20 and Noel left us to go to Broken Hill. Left us with no car and therefore no horn and about 1000 goats determined to escape to the road. The tested our patience one to many times so we headed over with Rose (followed by lashes and igor) to round them up. Using a working dog is FUN. I felt like Farmer Hogget in Babe, especially when I got to say 'that'll do, rose' at the end. With the goats safely penned in K and I returned to the house and spent a lot of time eating. When we eventually wrenched ourselves off the couch to feed our charges we found we had gained one. A large, stocky Billy kid just chilling. We have no idea where he's come from but he was easy to catch and took to a rubber teat with exceptional ease. So we're keeping him and calling him Bruce. I think he secretly knows he'd have been a good meat goat and fancied a life of being pandered to instead!</span></div>
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-85582352164426069612013-11-11T05:58:00.001+00:002013-11-11T05:58:30.550+00:00The Drenching<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">The subject of drenching the goats has been banded about since I arrived over two weeks ago but the day had finally arrived. We were going to de-worm the goats! We were up early and ready to go as we had been instructed the night before that we would start </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 8am</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">, but waited a good hour or so for Chris to actually turn up. It was German Alex's last day and he was hatching a plan to take Heidi away with him but unfortunately Heidi did not make it through her second night and was a stiff little goat come breakfast time. RIP Heidi. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Now Chris and Scottish Alex had talked at length but being lowly backpackers we weren't 100% sure what it was exactly we had to do. There was talk of a wing and ushering but we weren't sure which direction anything was happening so Farmer Chris and Noel headed off into the paddocks to round up (I think the farm term is muster) the goats and we stood with purpose near the yard. And waited. Sure enough the sound of bleating and trotting hooves got louder and a large group of goats came into sight which we helped guide into the yards whilst trying our very best not to annoy Farmer Chris with our ineptness. I'm not sure how much you know about drenching but I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It was exhausting. My coworkers were less than fresh following the previous day's merriment, Scottish Alex particularly green, so he donned a pack of drenching medicine and the gun (a syringe type thing) and the three of us had to convey the goats to him with mouths open so all he had to do was pull the trigger. Noel was manning the gate to another pen where the newly drenched goats were to go and wait to be ferried to the other side of the farm. Simples. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXzvPcKHx_bOxF7A1iqdJ3c-bupb6hrhnTBjw8NzXwr7AJ25Q8-dRnQ8xGdj_570Y0ul80yAmyO9g68eufokD6OXLl-Iv4WipPxwgfDMZTr-XDHp1tkI6MIuH3Q18_ccIH0fbXKp7DMJs/s1600/IMG-20130804-WA0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXzvPcKHx_bOxF7A1iqdJ3c-bupb6hrhnTBjw8NzXwr7AJ25Q8-dRnQ8xGdj_570Y0ul80yAmyO9g68eufokD6OXLl-Iv4WipPxwgfDMZTr-XDHp1tkI6MIuH3Q18_ccIH0fbXKp7DMJs/s400/IMG-20130804-WA0005.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As it turns out goats are little shits. The 'pets' were fairly compliant but the majority of the herd kicked and bucked and ran and caused an unnecessary fuss. To start of with I was grabbing the goats by the horns in order to catch them but it would seem that goat necks are not dissimilar to owl necks and rotate a very long way round - much more mobile and robust than a human wrist bone anyway. Not wanting to risk a goat related wrist injury we quickly resorted to grabbing a goat by the skin, pulling it towards you, trapping it between your legs then grabbing the horns and waddling over to Alex and the medicine before kicking them into the 'done' pen. There are about 1200 goats. That is about 2400 horns. I am fairly certain that 99%of those horns bruised some part of me over the course of the drenching. The flightier beasts even jumped resulting in a fairly hard, winding, thump to the chest, one nosebleed and a broken toenail (standard). The yards were concrete and soon looked muddy, only the goats hadn't created mud and it wasn't long before we were running around in actual faeces. I'd managed to ditch the holey workboots and find a pair of wellies but these also had holes which was quite delightful. Despite the smell, the injuries and the broken nails I actually really enjoyed it as it was good to do something that actually felt like proper farming, something that needed doing and served a purpose. It also elicited a strange response from Farmer Chris...he was nice* (*almost normal, spoke to us and, yes, even smiled). He seemed to be pleased with our work and even cooked us lunch!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the end of day one approached the goats were ferried by trailer to a pen on the other side of the farm and we ran around catching the kids so they could be reunited with their newly drenched mothers. At this point we were covered from head to toe in poo and felt thoroughly beaten up. German Alex left, the other two had to go to the abattoir and I was left to feed the kids, start a fire and put on dinner like a good little farm wife. I have now officially cooked every dinner since arriving. Unfortunately I am no Ray Mears and my fire starting skills were abysmal. I was still cold and covered in poo so gave up and put the heater on until -another shocker for the day - Chris rang to check how I was getting on and gave me fire lighting advice that WORKED. I feel like we might have turned a corner!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rest of the drenching was done without Farmer Chris who was too tired after the first day (what with his Q fever and all) and quickly stopped being enjoyable. The remaining goats were wilder and trickier and all together more unpleasant to give the medicine too which coupled with a late night and a lot of aching muscles meant the days didn't exactly fly by. The smell of ammonia had become very pungent overnight which was another less than pleasant contributing factor. Fewer goats in the fields meant there was a lot more waiting around and there also seemed to be a lot more kids sitting around. They are a little like trying to herd cats. As we entered our third day of drenching Scottish Alex's happiness levels plummeted and he soon became an absolute pleasure to be around. He was still without Maggie and kept talking about how he needed to leave Murrabit and get back to his proper jackarooing job...a real miserable Michael. At this point we really were rounding up the stragglers and K'marie and I jumped at the chance to hop in the ute with Noel and leave the Scot to grumble alone. We found a black goat with a very new kid at the back, but being a protec</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">tive mother she kept butting poor Rosalie, so we grabbed the kid and used it's screaming to get her to follow, eventually getting her in the back and sitting on her until we reached the drenching yards. She then didn't have much interest in her baby who settled down looking very tiny amongst the other kids. We drenched and ferried the goats as usual but when we went back to the pen when the sun had said the little kid had still not been collected...and so we have claimed tiny little Timmy as our own. Since he is so very small and clean we couldn't quite bring ourselves to put him in with the rest of our brood, so for now he's a house goat. By this time Alex's grumpiness had really got to me (especially after having cooked AGAIN) and he banished Timmy to the freezing kitchen because he was making noise. I took poor little lonely, rejected Timmy to my bed, had cuddles and watched Groundhog Day. Alone. And it was good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(N.B. I didn't sleep with Timmy into bed - he went back into the lounge for the night. I've not reached that stage yet)</span></div>
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-85523080909643639932013-10-26T11:37:00.001+01:002013-10-26T11:37:14.060+01:00Water Water Everywhere<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">Day 14 Water water Everywhere </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After their mammoth trip to Broken Hill and back (they drove the entire length of the UK in a day) K and Scottish Alex were given the day off. German Alex gave himself the day off as he was going to check out a dairy farm down the road to see about another job. So I was left all on my tod (well, with Noel) and boy what a treat did I have in store. My first water run. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead of paying for water delivery like the majority of locals Farmer Chris likes to get it himself. The have a 1000l tank with antique hoses that they fill and empty and fill and empty etc. First things first we had to put the empty tank on the back of the ute. No Biggie. Then we drive for 25mins or so over to Koondrook, the farm where Chris lives. Then we drive for about 20 bumpy minutes through the farm to an irrigation channel at the very far end of it. I was aware our tap water was less than sanitary but seeing it in situ. Well. I would never even consider applying toothpaste to my tooth brush, dipping in this channel, brushing my teeth and then rinsing my toothbrush in this channel but alas, apparently this is pretty much what I had been doing. One pipe was placed in the muddy stream and the other into the tank. This is when Noel produced some overalls which I foolishly thought we might have to put on. Instead it was to put over the pipe as it 'leaks a bit'. I think we pumped 1000litres for the tank and 1000litres for me and the grass. We then bumped back to the farm and reversed the process, pumping the water into Chris' water tank, me and the surrounding ground. This was repeated 3 times but on the final unload I was in for a special treat. It was time for me to meet Walter. Walter the 1 tonne bull (apparently he's now only 900kgs as he's lost a bit of weight. He was still the size of a truck). Walter is currently contained in a small pen. Walter's water trough(s) were running low. And lucky old me had to climb into the very small pen with the very large bull to fill the troughs up. I was assured he was harmless but to be wary as he could crush me without meaning to. Gulp. Obviously as I'm now writing this I'm pleased to report that I am still in one piece and Walter is hydrated. Wearing a red shirt did nothing to settle my nerves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I eventually returned to Murrabit the sun had very much set and my fellow co workers had enjoyed an entire bottle of whiskey and a few sundry cans of XXXX. I'll admit that I was jealous they'd been having a fun day as I bumped around pumping water. Chris came round with a few groceries and was less than impressed by the drinking, but as I sat on the floor sober and playing jenga with German Alex something magical happened...Chris smiled. Yes. Smiled. At me! And he was clearly desperate to join in the jenga game. Maybe my mission to make him talkative (read: normal social skills) could be back on.</span></div>
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-34406498266648256282013-10-26T11:33:00.001+01:002013-10-26T11:33:21.010+01:00Ma there's a goat in the kitchen<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We got in from our night out to find a bottle of bubbles and a cake from Chris and Ayrlie (hadn't been in to receive - awkward) and dinner remains out on the table. Standard. Alex was off to Broken Hill that day but had been told to take a buddy at the last minute. Since I had got an afternoon to myself the day before we decided K could go this time, so German Alex and I were left on the farm together. It was a fairly uneventful day, Ayrlie arrived and we were instructed to make a fire to burn the rubbish in the yard and I was made to take Billy the Asbo dog on a goat round up mission. I truly hate taking Billy the Asbo dog for a 'walk'. It doesn't go well for either party. Despite taking gardening glove precautions I more often than not end up with a blood injury and Billy just tries to hang/choke himself the entire duration and there is nothing soothing about the strangled pant of a dog in your charge. It was also drizzling which added to the ambiance somewhat. German Alex found his first kid whilst building the fire pile - a very pretty grey goat who needed a German name. He vetoed pretty much all my suggestions; Frau Schmitt, Sandrine, Helga but eventually settled on Heidi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was getting dark when I was heading back to the house. Like usualI went into the Kitchen to start warming milk leaving Alex outside. But I could hear a noise. The noise of someone in the (dark) house. I turned the light in the sitting room on and went in - nothing. The porch door was slightly ajar so I locked it, wet back to the kitchen where, blow me down, Dean, the resident giant goat, was merrily ferreting around the kitchen. A goat in the kitchen. What else would you expect in a </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0/" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday evening</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">? The funny thing is I didn't even shock me. Country life is getting to me.</span></div>
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-67111977524804937942013-08-12T23:44:00.001+01:002013-08-12T23:44:17.629+01:00Birthday Fun on the Farm<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Day 11 and 12</span><div><span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">After the rage the next few days were ok considering. The following day we received a call from Chris telling Alex to drive over to the Koondrook farm leaving one girl behind. I was that one girl and had a delightful afternoon walking round the farm, feeding kids and, of course, putting dinner on. When the others returned K'marie was fuming. They'd had to spend the entire afternoon raking grass and looking busy whilst Chris told Alex that he'd be going to Broken Hill to get goats. I definitely got off lightly! </span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Thursday 1 August was K'marie's 21 Birthday. Luckily it was a lovely sunny day with all 9 kids needing feeding, plenty of dead goats that needed burning, a fence that needed fixing, a grain storage thing that needed climbing (needed potentially not completely true) and a toy that needed shooting (I hit it with a shotgun. Awesome). The boys distracted her while I made a cake (hopefully the only packet cake I will ever bake) and then Rikki arrived to tell us to go over the road <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1">at 7pm</a>! Rikki is a very sweet 14year old girl who likes to pop over and visit us and was horrified that a 21st should be in a goat farm so her parents and the family across the road (a dairy farmer and British vet wife) had decided to throw a party for her as a surprise (I was in on it...not that I could help much). It was such a lovely evening and so sweet of them to have the two of us over. I still had to cook for the Alexes before leaving though which I was less than thrilled about - they had chicken wings, frozen veg and left over pasta from the kilogram German Alex had cooked the day before. In hindsight I should have told them to do it themselves but sometimes it's just easier to throw some chicken bones in the oven and leave, you know? Back to the party, we were greeted with crudités, nibbles and pimms (pimms!!) and they'd put on an epic BBQ. The only minor incident was K noticing a spider crawling up my arm and was uncharacteristically calm when alerting someone else to remove it so the spider was disposed of without any screaming (I mean I wasn't calm but I wasn't stamping around screaming as per). They are fascinated about our living arrangements, how Chris can get away with the way he treats his backpackers and apparently no one gets along with Chris. This stems back to an incident with a pig and who stole who's pig...I couldn't really follow it and I think I've heard Ayrlies side of the story too so it's all a bit confusing. Funny though (take my word for it). Both families have school age children who entertained us performing on singstar all evening whilst we ate pavlova and lamination birthday cake. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">I think the worst moment of the evening came shortly after K was saying how much better farming was then fruit picking.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">' I mean fruit picking is so boring, I see friends with orange sacks as its just Orange. Orange. Orange. I'd much rather be doing this'.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Rikki's parents are orange pickers.</div></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAL2V5ZmVMjDFv-m9Q8rB5mOy_jo2xDJjMCOVUY6BkPwlP_ecXRDdCJz9lT-bW8oFZ2zJBOC_QEhal0a57De2r3P4Ed1e34GBLqeTxxMeZaYhWHIdqd3XuYCdYBtZ6ipqjKcOz-oj_og/s640/blogger-image-363920049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAL2V5ZmVMjDFv-m9Q8rB5mOy_jo2xDJjMCOVUY6BkPwlP_ecXRDdCJz9lT-bW8oFZ2zJBOC_QEhal0a57De2r3P4Ed1e34GBLqeTxxMeZaYhWHIdqd3XuYCdYBtZ6ipqjKcOz-oj_og/s640/blogger-image-363920049.jpg"></a></div>Solo goat herding!<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRC__7_y43n0GwjuiSlkYvmolOLUtdHapz32bfnY6ZtAE8qXiYh-trqbSBPjdOCHGBtKcgFg-cIjNU5fhhA9jfAS6Dc9iqIAzPvur6Wew5ycFSrBkuo7sd-QA1sbHLhMz1QQHShWUaYBk/s640/blogger-image-681662160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRC__7_y43n0GwjuiSlkYvmolOLUtdHapz32bfnY6ZtAE8qXiYh-trqbSBPjdOCHGBtKcgFg-cIjNU5fhhA9jfAS6Dc9iqIAzPvur6Wew5ycFSrBkuo7sd-QA1sbHLhMz1QQHShWUaYBk/s640/blogger-image-681662160.jpg"></a>Ahmed, Celine and Grimm</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-76568631180682172262013-08-12T23:33:00.001+01:002013-08-12T23:33:08.933+01:00The Day The Rage Came<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div>The day started as usual. Reluctance to leave the electric blanket, the sound of K lighting the fire for the day, the bleating of goats and the sounds of an angry Scotsman swearing at his dogs from the far end of the farm. Alex is a very nice chap but my goodness me does he lose his temper and sadly his mood rather dictates the days mood. K and I decided we were going to have an upbeat and happy day so we left German Alex (who ate the biggest breakfast I've ever seen...boys really don't get communal living) with angry Alex building a 'wing' (some sort of fence we'll be using for the drenching. No one tells me anything so I can't be more specific). We fed the kids (all 9 of them), went to check the front fence and then to find Noel who was trying to round up the goats. Now given that we spend the majority of our time trying to keep the goats in today sounded pretty easy: get the goats out to the other field. Rose the dog is still over at Farmer Chris' house so Noel was attempting to herd them with the ute. K and I saw the opportunity to hop in the trailer and took it pronto. We had a big herd of goats but would they go through the open gate? No. We abandoned them an got on with another couple of farm tasks that needed doing (finding barrels to cut in half for water for the goats - one had had molasses in it and was complete with a dead, sticky rat) and went to get the last of the wood from Geoffrey's to bring over. Then we tried to do the goats again. K and I were running and hutting and hoying and yodeling at them and Noel was honking and bashing and revving but they would not go through the blinking gate! We went back to get the boys who were cutting wood to see if Alex and his stockdog, Maggie could help do the job rose would do in 10 minutes. Well. This is where the day turned a tad sour. Maggie did not do what she was told. At all. Maggie even succeeded in splitting up the group by doing all the things a stock dog shouldn't and then ran away as I assume she knew what was coming her way. German Alex wasn't much help. He hasn't grasped the concept of herding an his 'voice was hurting' from the shouting (his arms were hurting from the wood yesterday too...!!). Anyhoo we abandoned the plan to get all the goats out and went to find Alex and Maggie. We spotted them, Maggie was thrown into the trailer with a colossal slam an the angry Scott marched into the distance with a face like thunder. We said nothing and suppressed a giggle (and gave the dog a bit of love).</div><div><br></div><div>K, Noel and I went to go and get a couple of dead goats we'd found earlier in the day (Noel drove me Into Murrabit for some new boots earlier in the day but we u turned when they were $95. In our way back we saw a nanny birth twins so K and I walked to check on them and found two dead ones...they smelled god awful). One of them clearly died whilst giving birth, the other looked like she'd died from inflation. I found out the hard way that a goats horns can fall off when dead. I squealed. Loudly. Instead of putting these two on the trailer Noel tied string to their heads and we dragged them to the burning pile. Nice. The burning pile still smelled awful - charred, rancid goat still on the wind. We did our best to keep our distance from the angry Scot and the unenthusiastic German Alexs.</div></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The day went on with K and I choosing to spend the afternoon with Noel avoiding Alex who set about loudly cutting firewood. Earlier in the day Alex had spoken to Chris and told us to write him a shopping list which we did - it was 7 items long as we didn't want to appear demanding. Items such as tomato pasta sauce (we had a jar), frozen peas (no one likes a can), honey (for poorly kids), sugar (for Chris' tea), veg (e.g broccoli), bananas and meat for the boys (because heaven forbid we give them a meat free dinner). Well Chris turned up early evening to speak to Alex about the dog (Alex had told him to take her or he'd shoot her - mature) and this is when my rage started to bubble up. I had started getting dinner ready (yes, I have been cooking every blooming night since I got here) and was cutting up potatoes. Chris asked who the list writer was. We had a jar of tomato sauce. We had canned peas. We had chicken wings etc etc. He then asked what I was doing with the potatoes. Why was the skin on? Did all poms leave skin on? All very disapproving. He left and came back 2 mins later. I was peeling the bloody potatoes. What are you doing to the potatoes? Are you peeling the potatoes? AAAAARGH. I nearly threw a potato at his head. The boys are a bit squalid and we spend most of the time cleaning up after them. We were planning on cleaning after dinner (water shortage means washing up isn't a free and easy activity) but obviously Chris came round first and had the audacity to say it was the worst it's ever been. He was there on my first night! It was horrendous...and the potatoes had the skin on. Well, Chris, you can't polish a turd. I bit my tongue, put food in the oven and rang mum for a rant. I then instructed her to ring me 10minutes later so I could leave the table. Worked a charm.</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-64562518395736078622013-08-12T23:32:00.001+01:002013-08-12T23:32:55.851+01:00Ground-log Day<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Day 9</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">I have very little to report from today because today was mostly spent with wood. Lots of wood. I drove the ute from different ends of the farm to move wood. We moved wood from Geoffrey's, into the ute, then drove it back to the house, then unloaded it, then drove back to Geoffrey's, then loaded the ute, then drove back to the house, then unloaded it, then drove back to Geoffrey's...you get the idea. After the second ute load was on I drove back across the fields for the first unloading where we had the unpleasant surprise of Farmer Chris in the yard. The first thing he said? 'Use the brakes. I see yous bumping in the potholes'. Hello, Chris, I'm well thank you, how are you?' He then watched my reverse it to the wood pile with great scrutiny hoping for another error. I drive like a granny and about 4 times slower than Ayrlie so this had sent my blood pressure rocketing. Luckily it was a Flying visit to pick up Scottish Alex to go to the abattoir and left us with the task of moving all the wood. K sums it up well by saying that it can be a fun, sunny day but Chris brings a cloud that dampens everyone's spirits.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">On went the trailer and back we went to moving the wood. Over to Geoffrey's, into the ute, back to the house, out of the ute etc etc. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">As the day was ending I had the pleasure of taking the best wood over to the Koondrook farm (residence of Farmer Chris) to unload it there. Oh goody! I hadn't been yet and the stories I've heard haven't exactly been great, but I unloaded the wood (snore) under the watchful gaze of Chris and an enormous bull then kept my fingers crossed we weren't going to hang around.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The only non wood related activities today was some new German. But even that was a bit wood related with 'vielen grossen stochen' being my new words for the day. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Instead of counting sheep to go to sleep tonight I'll be counting logs</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-74650316811101638532013-08-05T13:57:00.001+01:002013-08-12T23:32:35.093+01:00Ground-log Day<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Day 9</span><br>
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I have very little to report from today because today was mostly spent with wood. Lots of wood. I drove the ute from different ends of the farm to move wood. We moved wood from Geoffrey's, into the ute, then drove it back to the house, then unloaded it, then drove back to Geoffrey's, then loaded the ute, then drove back to the house, then unloaded it, then drove back to Geoffrey's...you get the idea. After the second ute load was on I drove back across the fields for the first unloading where we had the unpleasant surprise of Farmer Chris in the yard. The first thing he said? 'Use the breaks. I see yous bumping in the potholes'. Hello, Chris, I'm well thank you, how are you?' He then watched my reverse it to the wood pile with great scrutiny hoping for another error. I drive like a granny and about 4 times slower than Ayrlie so this had sent my blood pressure rocketing. Luckily it was a Flying visit to pick up Scottish Alex to go to the abattoir and left us with the task of moving all the wood. K sums it up well by saying that it can be a fun, sunny day but Chris brings a cloud that dampens everyone's spirits.</div>
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On went the trailer and back we went to moving the wood. Over to Geoffrey's, into the ute, back to the house, out of the ute etc etc. </div>
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As the day was ending I had the pleasure of taking the best wood over to the Koondrook farm (residence of Farmer Chris) to unload it there. Oh goody! I hadn't been yet and the stories I've heard haven't exactly been great, but I unloaded the wood (snore) under the watchful gaze of Chris and an enormous bull then kept my fingers crossed we weren't going to hang around.</div>
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The only non wood related activities today was some new German. But even that was a bit wood related with 'vielen grossen stochen' being my new words for the day. </div>
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Instead of counting sheep to go to sleep tonight I'll be counting logs</div>
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Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-6910110295519904132013-08-05T13:54:00.001+01:002013-08-05T13:54:04.672+01:00And then there were 9<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Today was a sad day. When we checked on the little ones this morning i could only see 9. i then checked the barrel and saw one small, bedraggled goat. Very still. I checked over the others and couldn't see JY so assumed this poor, wee sodden kid was him. He was alive, just, so we took him inside for the bath treatment. Little jy had 3 hot baths but after a few feeble mews he left us too. What a way to go - frozen in wee. We had decided last night that we'd light another fire today so at least little jy didn't have to sit around being eaten. We gathered wood and took it to the burning pile which was smelling particularly rancid today, more so than usual which is saying something. I was a little bit sad and not in the best of moods this morning. My constantly cold and increasingly chapped hands topped off with my favourite goat dying because he was weed on did not start my day off well. My patience was especially short with the hounds who were sat eating rank bits of rank goats at various stages of decay and charring then trying to lick my face which is so not cool.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">On we got with our daily farm chores and then we started on goat proofing the concrete pen outside the old dairy. This involved moving gates and using tie wire (my plier skills still need some fine tuning). There is a ramp up the side of the pen that leads the goats into a lorry and a gate at the bottom to control them. Alex decided to move a rubber mat that had slid down the ramp which uncovered several australian sized woodlice, a few centipedes, many beetles and a redback spider (spotted by eagle eye 6th sensed K). I retreated up the ramp a little while Alex squashed it then spotted the same sort of hand sized monster we had spotted on the post the day before. At this point K and I were both on this ramp. 'Oh my god' said I as I scrambled passed. 'what are we oh my godding at' said K on repeat as the two of us screeched our way past each other and launched ourselves off the top of this thing...it is about 5 ft high and I jumped (yes, I jumped) from the end of it. It's the most athletic I've been for a while. It was a chilly and windy day so I kept the little ones in the pen most of the day to keep warm. We also did a bit of roofing (my involvement was limited to Measuring and sending up a few sheets of corrugated tin) and I changed my first tyre so I could use the ute to move things around the yard to make it look a bit tidier. I also had my first trip to Murrabit village centre which consists of one shop-post office-pub with the supermarket value range items at vastly inflated prices.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">In the evening a new backpacker arrived - German Alex. As it turns out Scottish Alex has a German mother and worked in Germany for a year so is pretty fluent and so far I think German Alex is enjoying my fluency too. I've told him all about my familien haus, what I do in meine freizeit and what my leiblingsfacher are. Es ist sehr gut. He has arrived with VERY white trainers and looks even more city than I did on my arrival so we'll see how he gets on. My next few posts might be auf deutsch. Ja.<br><div><br></div></div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-7210779089578442622013-08-05T13:52:00.001+01:002013-08-05T13:52:13.565+01:00Spider on the post<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Day 7. One week down!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Today was my first day working with Noel and it was nice to have direction! Noel likes a leisurely morning and once we'd done our usual morning chores (we still have 10!) we headed to the back paddock to goat proof it. Apparently we are going to drench all the goats to try and prevent more worm related deaths. I'm not quite sure how this is supposed to work as I think the drenching is happening near the house but the new goat proof area we worked on is quite far back...I am sure it will all become apparent. Maybe. So aside from more fencing (I observed more than I worked) I discovered that I enjoy using an axe. I am also pretty good at using an axe. Those spiny bushes were toast. A fair bit of work was needed to straighten and right the posts using chains and landcruisers.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Now I'm not great with spiders but K'marie has the worst phobia I think I've encountered. She can spot the legs a mile away so when her voice went hoarse and she leapt back 10ft I knew something had been spotted and could just about make out 'spider on the post, spider on the post'. About 10 seconds later I spotted the hand size arachnid walking slowly around the post. Noel brushed it casually to the floor and stood on it. 10seconds later 'it's moving! It's moving' and sure enough it had escaped the boot and was crawling towards us. Then it had the boot treatment. We spotted a few more that day and so were slightly twitchy for the rest of it. Once one of us starts the other one is off too and Alex has realised all he needs to do is give us a look somewhere like shoulder or hair and its enough to set us off. We have tried to explain that it's not funny but he doesn't agree.</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-24577524939912780092013-07-29T13:48:00.001+01:002013-07-29T13:48:08.560+01:00En Guarde<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">You'd be forgiven for thinking I had tried to cuddle an angry feral cat if you saw my hands but you'd be mistaken. Instead my bleeding, scratched and blood blistered hands are a result of today's fencing. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">It was another morning with 10 little ones! I think our new bed time method is working - nice big feed at the front of the house and completely wrapping the pen in blanket to trap the heat. They all seem pretty hardy now and even Celine and JY are joining in with the others more. Even Bernard made it through the night! Being tiny and unable to walk he gets to stay inside for now.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">So today we had to finish the fence around the house. We only had to re dig one hole but it needed to be 4ft deep - that's pretty deep. 4 ft is longer than an arm so K'Marie ended up with her head in the hole trying to empty it out (I didn't have to volunteer and that suited me just fine). Once the post was in we started tying off the wires. I'm not a natural with wire work and find the claw lacks the strength to use pliers efficiently. It was also helpful and not at all annoying that going round on a loop in my head was 'and his terrible whiskers are tougher than wire'. So the wires were strained, monkey wrenches were used, we straightened up a couple of posts by pulling them with the ute and a few hours later the fence was complete! Goat free yard (apart from a couple of the usual house goats as apparently they will always find away). </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">At lunchtime we made little Bernard a jumper out of a sock to keep the little fellow cosy. It was a sunny afternoon and the kids were huddled snoozing in the sun so we took Bernard out in a polystyrene box to join them for a bit of vitamin D. We went to check the fences and when we came back the spot was shady and the kids had moved. Poor little Bernard had fallen out of the box and was splayed in the shade looking hopeless and ridiculous. I took him back inside to gentle bleats of protest and put him back by the fire (Bernard humdings). Unfortunately Bernard never warmed up properly and was a floppy little goat when we checked on him later that afternoon. We gave him the bath/hairdryer treatment, but Bernard beamed up to the great goat paddock in the sky. I felt a bit bad for taking him outside until K pointed out that a goat who couldn't cope with an hour outside was a poor goat. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Noel came back in the evening so we made sure we had a nice meal cooked for him (as nice as we can rustle up from what we have). Noel is a very nice old man with many stories....I'm not quite sure how he's Chris' father.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz8Q9cXASHLp1AtVgljkCQZGcjct5q2-l0uGPD4Olnsl4Ik5rlnz0hyEGwXTVrBtGgK2FtQqAKJnUHexBTFdzYBaUgJbYpsGKfj8eadWT0nebZXlDFAw2b3J4lWezn5px-Q373sbEuXY/s640/blogger-image-943870738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz8Q9cXASHLp1AtVgljkCQZGcjct5q2-l0uGPD4Olnsl4Ik5rlnz0hyEGwXTVrBtGgK2FtQqAKJnUHexBTFdzYBaUgJbYpsGKfj8eadWT0nebZXlDFAw2b3J4lWezn5px-Q373sbEuXY/s640/blogger-image-943870738.jpg"></a></div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-17814408606933990432013-07-25T22:30:00.001+01:002013-07-25T22:30:30.304+01:0010/10!<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Guess what! When we checked the pen this morning all 10 babies were present and correct! What a happy start to the day! I was definitely expecting at least one given the previous days track record and the fact I could see my breath as I wandered around the 'house' this morning. It was a very misty morning but Alex had us out at 8 and after kids were fed there was a fence to build.</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The farm has about 1500 goats but around 200 of these are 'pets'. The pets are goats that have been hand reared and are kept to produce babies but they themselves won't ever go to slaughter. They are quite funny but for the most part a nuisance. There are a handful in particular who sleep at the house, most annoyingly Dean and his bezzie Ronnie who sleep on the deck by the warm chimney and shit everywhere. Alex won't stand for this so we are redoing the fence around the 'house' so it is a dog only yard. My morning was spent digging deep holes for straining posts, cutting my very first bit of metal (I felt very flash dance with all the sparks), using a monkey wrench (not just a song!) and all sorts of useful wire-related things. Everything is old and rusty and 'useless' according to Alex who had no patience with the previous workmanship on the fence but seemed to have endless patience with two girls who don't know a grinder from a gripple (we do now!).</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">He left to go to the other farm after lunch leaving K'Marie putting in another post and me with the task of taking Clifford the pig dog puppy (horse sized already) and Kip the blue healer. It was not a task I was looking forward to after chicken gate, mouldy head gate and general stories of the pigs/foxes/rabbits they've all mauled. I attached them both to the same piece of rope ne tentatively set off...they were exceptional. I have never walked two more well behaved dogs. Don't get me wrong I wouldn't let them off the rope ad I did worry about rope burn if one bolted but bar one rancid kid leg incident with Clifford I couldn't complain! We did have to turn around and go back the way we came though as 60odd goats were out and about and one poor soul was lying on the ground with one hoof (trotter? What do goats have?!) stuck very firmly in the fence. I couldn't free her alone so went to get K'Marie to help. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">When I got back the water man was back! He had come earlier with a water delivery - something of great joy as usually we have to fetch the water ourselves (again, a trip I haven't made yet as Noel has been away). I believe most of the people round here get their water delivered, farmer Chris is just tight...our delivery was a favour as the guy is building him a Dam and apparently the water is in return for dirt. So Chris isn't paying anything for it. Water man was enchanted by our little collection of kids and horrified to hear that we often ran out of water and were here for free so he brought us another tankful. Nice, hey!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">We managed to free the clumsy goat and herded the others (basically a pro now) and were back in time for feeding just as Alex returned. I am a bit worried about jy as he hasn't embraced life in the nursery and does not care for the rubber teat. He is often at the back looking little and sad and lonely but he loves a snuggle with me. We nearly took him in for the night but he kept walking into the fire so he's in the pen with the others. Fingers crossed they all make it again. We are feeding them more and blocking any bit of air getting into the cage overnight, it's worked once!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">We did have one little chap in with us <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">tonight</a> - I found him being attacked by pesky crows. He is only about 4 days old but when I came to check on him a few hours after I'd brought him in to warm up he was basically sat in the fire. The smell of burned goat is another treat. He is called Bernard. But I am not convinced he'll be with us tomorrow so I won't dwell!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Spirits dip ever so slightly in the morning as I'm a bit fed up of always being cold. I do not have workmans hands and they are already red and peely as they are constantly being washed in freezing water or eaten by goats or manipulating wire or just out in the chilly air. If anyone fancied sending gloves...!</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-80956186758896937852013-07-24T10:57:00.005+01:002013-07-24T10:57:39.863+01:00Soon her mama with a gleaming goat herd<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Another day, another dead goat. Despite checking on the little dears 3 kids died overnight. Luckily JY and Celine (my two faves) made it. Charlie left early doors leaving me, K'Marie and Alex. It was a chilly but beautifully sunny day perfect for being outside. Along with the usual goat chores we tidied the yard including fixing trailers, using tools (I now know how to use a ratchet (which isn't a spanner or a wench, FYI)) and moved some heavy things. I do not yet have workman hands and my digits are getting redder and more chapped by the day. It was also a perfect day for a nice long walk with the dogs to go and fix a fence. Now Alex has 3 pooches. Maggie the stock dog, kip a blue heeler (TERRIFYING child killing type hound) and Clifford the puppy Pig Dog. He is enormous. And bred to kill pigs. To say I am slightly afraid of these dogs would be true but Clifford the pig dog is actually a nice one. The blue one? Would not trust! Today's lasting memory will be the pig dog running towards me with something in its mouth. This turned out to be a maggot infested rotting kid head. That smell will stay with me for a while.</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Having had a bit of a clean up we decided to feed the kids in the setting sun and made sure they were full to bursting and warm before putting them to bed. Fingers crossed we don't lose any tonight but there is only so much we can do with no hay and no heat lamp. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">I am already immune to the stench of goat that repulsed me on arrival. This cannot be a good sign. Tomorrow we're getting up early to build fences. Happy Wednesday, folks! </div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-53928608883305461482013-07-24T10:57:00.003+01:002013-07-24T10:57:34.738+01:00'Maggie! Not me, the goats you dumb @&*$'<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">So that little goat I saved yesterday? Yup. Dead as a door nail this morning. Alongside him another weedy white one was bent double and fitting so she was given the same treatment as my pal yesterday whilst I fed all the others. On my way to the burning pile I came across a lost little one screeching in a way I haven't come across yet. I have called her Celine.</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Today was Charlie's last day and passed much the same as the other two but with Alex in residence Chris and Ayrlie didn't come round. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Alex is the most outback aussie I've met since being here. he has an off roading ute, is a jackaroo on a sheep and cattle station that is 300km from its nearest village, arrived with a swag and 3 dogs, wears an aussie hat and has various useful knives and stuff in various leather sheaths...and a very broad Scottish accent. One of the dogs came from here and he's trying to train her as a 'stock dog' (that's sheep dog for not just sheep to those of us not in the know) and hearing an angry scot swearing loudly at his disobedient pooch was pretty funny. When we got back to the house around 4 - surprise! - the power was out. Apparently there has been a dispute with the electric company for a while and a 'miscommunication' meant we had been cut off! Alex, being a man of the outback, had a trangia so I channeled my inner Duke of Edinburgh awardee and heated up the kids milk so they wouldn't go to bed hungry - losing a goat a day is not something I want to continue and it has become something of a personal mission to keep them alive!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Darkness fell so we sat around the fire and a couple of candles when Shannon arrived. Now Shannon was mildly terrifying. He had turned up to go spotlighting and shoot foxes with fake Aussie Alex but the lack of power meant he couldn't charge the spotlight battery and Shannon joined us. He is a big, gruff Aussie who, prior to working in the sewers, worked in an abattoir. We were entertained with stories of both as he swigged beer and talked about his children like they were puppies. I am sure he is perfectly nice and he was quite funny but he's the type of guy who you can imagine saying 'call that a knife??' and in my current surroundings I am a little less brave than perhaps I usually am. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The power man came about <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">8pm</a> to fix the electricity and we once again had light and a tap that worked. And my electric blanket. Oh hooray </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Today's nugget of joy: apparently Murrabit and surrounds is where they rehome crims and paedos because it is far away from civilisation....</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-27314627200626984822013-07-24T10:57:00.001+01:002013-07-24T10:57:30.557+01:00As You Wish<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Day 2</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Discovery of electric blanket meant I didn't freeze so the night was almost event free if you forget that my room is next to the kid pen...the little buggers scream randomly throughout the night and since I am in the middle of nowhere (had I mentioned that?) I am slightly on edge. Screaming in the dark will wake me. As will Dean, a large billy who head buts my wall. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">One of our poorly kids made it, the other was a kiddy corpse by morning so Ahmed joined the others for morning feeding. This morning we had one dead and one hypothermic weedy little one very near death. He was presented to me limp and cold so I could save him. Righty ho then. I stuck my finger in his mouth to check his temperature which was very low indeed, so sat him in front of the fire (still cold), got a hair dryer on him (still cold), bundled him in a towel (which smelled god awful) and eventually plonked him in a bucket of hot water (started to warm up). In between short fits he was completely limp and his eyes were cloudy...I was very sure I was bathing a dead goat but occasionally he let out a week scream. I put some honey on the roof of his mouth then set about drying him with my hair dryer. There really isn't anything quite like the smell of hairdryed goat. I didn't have high hopes but my challenge had been to keep him alive so I wasn't going to give up until the others had returned from morning rounds. And guess what... HE LIVED! I saved the little blighter, got some milk in him and a couple of hours later he was skipping round with the others. I'm sure the more I do this the less exciting it will become but I definitely saved his life so that's a small victory for now! </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Charlie and I left to check the fences leaving K'Marie trying to make the house a bit more sanitary. Ayrlie's attempts to save goats the day before meant there was an awful lot of goat excrement on the rug which combined with the fusty towel and newly dried goat was less than ideal.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">We herded goats back into the paddock (no asbo billy this time) then spotted a dead goat stuck in a fence up ahead. When I got close I realised dead goat wasn't dead, she was very stuck and had been attacked by a cat. (The cats out here are HUGE and feral). Her back hooves were very tangled and it took a fair bit of effort to free her and her face was very bloody from the cattack. Once freed we lifted her over the fence to the right side (not a small goat) but since we are on foot carrying her back was not really an option. Ayrlie came by later and goat was still alive with a couple of kids nuzzled up to her so we popped them all in the ute and took them home. One of the kids was noisily reunited with its mother en route (very funny) and the other one has joined our menagerie. I have called her JY. Will wait to here how fence goat gets on. She was a very sad sight.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">When Ayrlie and I returned Alex, a Scottish chap who used to work here and I'd heard a lot about, had arrived. Ayrlie: 'God, am I pleased to see you. This is Tiffany'. Nice. Alex stepped out of his ute, can of xxxx in hand and within minutes his 3 dogs were tearing around the yard, one with a chook (that's a chicken to me and you) in it's mouth. Watching a mass of feathers, dogs, goats and a man with an Aussie hat and beer in hand all running round was hilarious to say the least, it just needed the Benny Hill theme! We are now a chicken down.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> We didn't see delightful Farmer Chris today because he is at home with Q fever. An infectious disease caught from goats. I only know this because I overheard a concerned Ayrlie asking Alex if he'd had his jab....not to worry about us then!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">It was nice to have a new face in the house but my overwhelming memory of today will be the image of Charlie's right armpit that hasn't been shaved for her 3 month stay. Not fine.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-15472173285984907572013-07-23T23:28:00.001+01:002013-07-23T23:28:03.047+01:00E-I-E-I-O<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Day 1</span><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Good news! I narrowly avoided freezing to death! Unfortunately I cannot say the same for Peach (one of the kids) or the puppies (10 puppies were born the day I arrived). All but one of them died overnight so we woke up to a very sad Rose the dog. We wanted to bring them inside but as a working dog we were told to leave her outside.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">I was expecting to be up at dawn so 830 start seemed very leisurely indeed. After a cup of tea and the grim death discoveries we set about with task number one - feeding time!</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">There are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than bottle feeding baby goats. They are all named but for the most part I can't quite work out how they are being told apart. Perhaps it's something that'll come to me in this goat...whatever it is. Once the little kiddies tummies were full (you literally squeeze them to see how full they are) it was time for task two - Fence Patrol. Goats are cheeky and sneaky clever buggers who are able to hop fences with ease. Farmer Chris is currently growing out the 'other paddock' so it is a decadent feast for his many goats. The goats can see that the grass is greener on the other side an once one makes the leap others will surely follow. We took Billy the asbo dog (as yet untrained working dog) with us on my first walk around the property. I had attempted to find suitable footwear before leaving Sydney but apparently girls don't wear work boots, they only wear wellies that are short and purple. I was informed by farmer Chris that I 'could sort that here'. Well I hadn't exactly seen any sort of shop in the last hour of our journey so I have been given a grotty pair of million-hand boots. They are a little (4sizes) too big and not exactly (or even slightly) waterproof, but they're well walked in an they're not flip flops so they are doing the job. Again, task two wasn't a bad task for a Sunday morning given that it was essentially a country side stroll around some fields. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">We herded the escaped goats (I can't quite bring myself to shout HOY HOY HOY HUT HUT HUT like the other two yet because it is ridiculous) who were surprisingly compliant and helped a few who had their heads caught in fences. We spotted a nanny and her kid (that's mummy and baby to those not in the goat know) out of the paddock so herded them in. The kid was supposed to follow. Instead Billy the asbo dog grabbed little kid around the abdomen: cue screaming from the kid, the nanny and me. The other two attempted to restrain Billy and I was instructed to put my hand into the dogs mouth (yes, the dog that had attacked the baby goat) so he dropped it. No skin was broken so I popped the traumatised kid over the fence and off they trotted. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Back to the house for a quick cuppa then back out to check the fences. When we got back Farmer Chris was there with lady friend Ayrlie (I can't work out if it's Ellie, Ally or Airlie as there are quite a few accents here). I smiled and said hello. Chris pointed at a log he had just chainsawed...I guessed I was supposed to fetch it. No words. I introduced myself to Ayrlie who could not have been less interested so I busied myself fetching the firewood whilst avoiding 3 (THREE) redbacks. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">The good news was that one puppy was still alive, so rose was taken inside to the fire where Charlie was attempting to revive a kid. There was a moment that will stay with me for a while. Charlie was taking a dead kid outside, ayrlie stopped her...</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">'its dead' said charlie</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">At which point Ayrlie took the goat and placed its entire snotty, sh@*ty snout in her mouth and blew. Then held the goat to her ear and pronounced it dead. They are cute but mouth to mouth? No. Just no.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Fresh from the goat snog Ayrlie, Kaye-Marie and I were off to start the burning pile. Oh goody. This involved finding a rancid pair of gloves and hauling the dead goats onto the trailer. They were mostly kids at varying stages of decay but there was a billy too. We then drove over to the burning area, a scorched bit of the field that smells HORRENDOUS. We had a few other dead goats around and I was told to go and fetch one that was quite far under a tree/thorny bush. I had no idea what to do so I asked. 'Pick it up like you would a dead rabbit'.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">'I've never picked up a dead rabbit'</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">'Really?'</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">'I grew up in the suburbs. I am urban'</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">'Back legs'</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Right. I was very much breathing through my mouth and attempting not to squeal like the girl I am. I managed and also helped move the others onto the pile. Next we needed to pile up the wood. It was a fun game of 'stick or bone' as I searched for kindling. Occasionally the 'stick' had a joint. Cue fun fact - 'Bone needs to be 800 degrees to burn. If you ever want to get rid of a body then feed it to pigs'. I mean we hadn't asked. This information was completely volunteered and comforting to hear whilst in the middle of NOWHERE. I stood well back and up wind when I realised unleaded petrol was being used to start the fire. That and the smell of rotting goat and sh*t was catching the back of my throat. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Back at the 'house' Farmer Chris was on top form asking where the heaters were, why were we using heaters when there was a fire? (There were no logs last night). Where is the black heater? In the bedroom with the electric blankets? Passive aggressive much? My ears did prick up at 'electric blanket' though so I went to find one! He left without so much as a hello, goodbye or 'how's your first day going?'. I hear this isn't uncommon and that I have got more out of him in the van than anyone else has so far. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><div>Aside from bottle feeding babies, herding escapees, burning carcasses, chasing eagles away and freeing clumsy/sad goats, other notable things about my new digs:</div><div>It is a shack of a house far from civilisation. You know water butts you get in gardens? The ones you collect rainwater in to water the plants? The ones that gutters lead to? Well that's where our drinking water comes from - a water butt over at another house on the farm (inhabitant currently jailed for growing and selling weed in the piggery). The water from our taps? That comes from a tank outside. A tank that we have to fill up from a smaller container that we have to take to the Murray river, fill it, then empty into the tank. I have yet to have the pleasure of that task. At the moment we have running water but it is the temperature of an alpine stream in December. The boiler leaks so 2mins only for a shower, if there is enough water in the first place. I haven't washed yet. The bathroom? Fit for washing goats. The toilet? Outside with spiders. </div></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">The people: 2 northern girls, Kaye Marie, 20 and Charlie, 26 (who is counting down her last two days). </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">Today's Nugget of Joy: They think the woman who went missing in the village next door was fed to pigs on the way to slaughter</div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-83061145686388884862013-07-23T23:27:00.001+01:002013-07-23T23:27:32.863+01:00The New Adventures of Farm GirlSo as I sat in Sydney airport waiting for my flight to a city I hadn't been to, waiting for a man I had never met to pick me up and waiting to drive with this stranger for 4 hours into the outback and far, far away from civilisation I decided that for the duration of my wretched regional work I would resurrect the blog to keep sane and keep an e-trail on my whereabouts. I mean I have seen wolf creek.<div><br></div><div>So aside from a minor delay and questionable neighbour in jazzy blue satin shirt my flight was uneventful. Farmer Chris (who was engaging...almost funny...over text and our phonecall) seemed pleasant enough. My backpack was put into the back of a refrigerated van next to a bit of dead pig (which was shortly moved to another van (owned nice, friendly farmer friend Jimmy). Conversation didn't exactly flow. After an hour or so I was beginning to regret not taking Caroline's suggestion of a list of small talk topics (aside: Caroline took a photo of me as I left and bid me farewell with 'please don't let me be the last person to see you'). Chris really was a man of few to no words but ran a very hot car so I was at least warm. Anyhoo hours passed, the sun set and about three hours in the radio was turned on. Questions such as 'so why did you choose goats?' Were answered with 'goats chose me'. Right, moving on then! It was like blood from a stone. We stopped in the nearest town which was hopping. It had a bowling alley! Ahem. We went to aldi where he loaded a trolley with cheap meat and full cream uht milk. Yummy. Then continued our journey into the darkness - he actually volunteered information about the river here! About an hour later we arrived at the farm. I felt foolish in a pale jumper and flip flops, more so as I stepped out into a very muddy puddle (I see a new pair in my future). The thing that struck my most on opening the door was the overwhelming aroma of goat. The goats were everywhere.</div><div><br></div><div>Rather than sort of repeat myself I will actually repeat myself: this sums up arrival! </div><div><br></div><div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">So I thought I'd update you from my new gaff. Left a gloriously sunny sydney, was met by farmer Chris who, whilst perfectly nice, will not be winning any awards for small talk. Or indeed talk. I'm reliably informed by my fellow co workers that I have had more conversation with him than they have in months. Anyhoo, I digress.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "> So farmer chris and I drove in his refrigerated van for 4 hours. 4 hours away from civilisation. I have never been further away from anything before. I am literally in the middle of nowhere. Nearest town is 1hr away...it has a bowling alley. We did stop at an aldi where Chris bought us chicken wings and full cream uht milk.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "> It is muddy here - flip flops were a poor travelling shoe. There are goats everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Everything smells of goat. A baby goat died in the 'living room' this evening. Tomorrow morning first job is to sweep the paddock for abandoned kids. Save what can be saved, burn what has already croaked it. Whilst being followed by goats. The goats that are everywhere. My fellow farm workers are two northern girls. One finishes in 3 days and she looks ready to run for the hills. The other is a peppy 20year old who is only a month in. They both look greasy because 'water is precious'. So precious that we have already run out of it. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">The toilet is outside and full of goats. It is also not flushing because there is no water. The water isn't drinkable either because it is rain water. I will be showering in rain water.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "> I am currently in my bed, wearing a lot of clothes and under a duvet with no sheet. It is freezing. I am wearing a hat. </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); ">There is no Internet but my phone does work so that's a plus! Another plus is that I am finding the whole situation rather hilarious so far, but I did shower this morning and my sleeping clothes smell delightfully of fabric conditioner. I don't think this will last. The goats are peering in at my window. And bleating. They are everywhere.</div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "> 3 months is sure to fly by... </div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br></div></div>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-58848016969675036842013-01-10T00:03:00.001+00:002013-01-10T00:03:03.705+00:00I've really grown as a person...(I thought I posted this a while ago)Arriving in Sydney signals the end of my blog I think. I'm unlikely to share a bus with a dead (was it?) chicken, find a rat in my room or argue with locals and I can't imagine there will be too much interest in my day to day life as I'll find it tricky not to be smug as I head to the beach. Three months is not a long time to be away but it is long enough to have learned some life lessons, a bit about asia and a small amount of personal discovery.<br />
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Things I have learned:<br />
<br />
Personal grooming is a public activity. It's a pleasure to see people cutting their toenails in the street (usually during a meal), shaving on the pavement (or motorbike), mining for gold (one chap went so far up he had to open his mouth and tilt his head)<br />
<br />
Pajamas are entirely acceptable day wear<br />
<br />
You can fit at least double the number of people than you think in any given mode of transport<br />
<br />
Always cover everything when on a bike (skin vs Tarmac has only one winner)<br />
<br />
Do not attempt to squeeze into small spaces<br />
<br />
Traffic lights and road rules are null and void<br />
<br />
Day to day people don't stand on each others feet. The minute you lose a nail people (cough Bryony) will stand on your toes daily<br />
<br />
Pavements are a token gesture (and an advert for claims direct)<br />
<br />
If anyone offers to thread your legs, say no.<br />
<br />
Waterproof cameras are not waterproof and have no longevity.<br />
<br />
All forms of public transport are horrible.<br />
<br />
Most city dwellers are angry.<br />
<br />
There is nothing that can't be transported by bike (including a fridge).<br />
<br />
There is rarely a time when a cup of tea isn't appropriate.<br />
<br />
Wetrooms are rank (I already knew this).<br />
<br />
Your bowels will let you down only at the most inopportune moments. <br />
<br />
There is no place like home.<br />
<br />
<br />
Things I have learned about me:<br />
<br />
I am not good at driving anything other than the corsa<br />
<br />
I am not a city traveller. The beach is my domain as I will not stray far from her<br />
<br />
I will never climb a volcano again.<br />
<br />
I am more attached to my toenails than I thought<br />
<br />
I like the idea of a manicure. I never like the result. <br />
<br />
I will never be a deep, European tan. But I also don't burn as easily as you all think.<br />
<br />
I either don't wash my hair enough or I am very sparing with shampoo. 3 months on a 100ml travel bottle. So proud.<br />
<br />
I am a terrible, terrible haggler.<br />
<br />
<br />
Things I have lost:<br />
Phone<br />
Sunnies x2<br />
Debit card<br />
Towel<br />
Both big toenails (the saddest)<br />
A fair amount of dignity <br />
No weight<br />
Countless hair bands <br />
A towel<br />
All my pens<br />
2 cameras (technically just broken, not lost)<br />
<br />
Oh, and most importantly, always WEAR SUNSCREEN. My bazzing days are behind me.Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-86152895539985311682012-12-14T11:40:00.001+00:002012-12-14T11:40:49.652+00:00So long, farewell Asia. You've been great but forgive me if I don't
rush back..I don't understand why bus companies lie. If a bus journey is going to take 6 and a half hours, then say that. Don't say it's 3. We EVENTUALLY arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's Capitol city where the older western men come to find their child brides. The guesthouse we'd planned to stay at was full so our tuktuk driver took us to another. After checking the room was ok (5floors up, but ok) we went to check in and pay the driver, at which point Bryony's purse was snatched from her hand at lightening speed from a speeding motorbike as she sat in the tuktuk. Thankfully it was only cash that was lost but we all made the decision that we would only go out with the cash we needed for the day and nothing of any worth. <br />
<br />
For my last day we thought we'd do something really uplifting and headed for one of the only 'must do' things in Phnom Penh - S21 and the Killing Fields. It was as unpleasant as you'd expect - the school-come-torturous prison was weirdly cool compared to the searing city heat and the fact that it happened less than 40 years ago makes it doubly horrible. The Killing Fields were accompanied by an audio tour which, given that we usually amble round completely clueless, was very interesting. It is so peaceful that its hard to imagine the horror and the paths constantly turn up teeth, bone fragments and scraps of clothing as the ground is worn away so you watch where you walk. We unanimously agreed that we want world peace - shouldn't be too hard.<br />
<br />
We headed back to town late afternoon ready for lunch and asked our tuktuk driver to drop us at a cafe. Over our unnecessary cakes and shakes we realised that not only did we not know where we were, we didn't know where our hotel was, what it was called, what it was near or the street name. And having taken 'nothing of worth' out with us we had no way to google and find out. Great! At least it wasn't getting dark (it was getting dark). Luckily Lauren's beady eyes and my Gold DofE managed to get us back relatively issue free. What with our late afternoon snack we weren't up for dinner and I'd agreed to pick up a watch my friend had left in a spa. Lord only knows how she happened across the spa because it was down a very dodgy side street and was a 2hour round trip tuktuk ride away...another lesson learned - even with a map and a 'yes I know where it is' never trust a driver. They have NO idea!<br />
<br />
As I'm still not ok with people touching my feet I thought I'd get a manicure before I left. A terrible idea for several reasons including<br />
#1 I never like the end result<br />
#2 I had to pack and wash my hair when we got back - nail intensive activities<br />
Sure enough my almost painfully short, pink lacquered nails did not aid departure preparations, they look awful and I feel like a Barbie. Nail varnish remover will be purchased in touch down in Oz!<br />
<br />
And so the time came to bid farewell to my two Brenda's (who are off to Phuket as I've flown to Bangkok). They didn't disappoint and wore their jasmine pants for a travel day . Helpfully the chap at Phnom Penh airport who said he'd checked my bag all the way to Sydney didn't actually check it all the way to Sydney. So I'm sitting in Bangkok airport, in a Starbucks (standard) waiting for check in to open for my onward flight. Only 5 hours, then 3 hours on the other side. Great! It wouldn't be right if the final journey had gone smoothly for once, it's just not the way they roll here.Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-26921141147773779782012-12-12T06:14:00.000+00:002013-03-14T07:31:07.896+00:00I really do like to be beside the seaside!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last few days have passed by in a haze of sun, sea, sand, strolls, seafood bbqs and shandies. Lauren and I checked into a mushroom shaped dorm on Otres beach aka the most chilled out stretch of sand I've ever seen. We headed straight to the beach (a gruelling 30second walk acoss the 'road'), ordered a shandy and before we'd even sat down we'd somehow agreed to have our legs threaded. I'm still not sure how it happened. A family of three set about removing our hairs one by one in a very public manner repeatedly ensuring us they'd be 'soft like baby's bum yes'. I'm not sure what Cambodian baby bottoms feel like but I hope it isn't how our legs ended up. It was essentially the slowest (and sometimes a bit painful) shave we've ever had, but when people stroke you in public and announce it's serious you are shamed into saying 'ok'. (They really weren't that bad, but any hair they see glistening in the sun is horrible to them and I was just relieved I hadn't been offered a chin thread too). The worst part was <br />Pushy lady: 'How long you been cambodiyaaaa?'<br />Me: 'just a couple of days'<br />Pushy lady: 'yes I thought so because you skin so white still *annoying tittery laugh*'<br />At this point I nearly fumed that I had been working on my tan for nearly 3 months...<br /> <br />Otres was a joy - it was sunny, there weren't too many tat sellers (the mother of the threading family did keep coming up to me and touching knees saying my skin was cool and good which was disconcerting), the sea was warm (you didn't brace yourself wading in) and contrary to it's neighbour, there were far less old-fat-white men with young Cambodian girls. (One of the guesthouses we tried when we arrived only had rooms with a girl...). Days were filled with tricky decisions like 'should we dip in the sea?' and 'how would you lie on your front in that comfortable satellite chair?' and 'is it time for another shandy?'. After a couple of days of beach life we managed to gee ourselves up to go back to serendipity to look into some island trips. We booked a boat to Koh Rong leaving the next day, some snorkeling for Lauren and a couple of dives for me. <br /> <br />Koh Rong is one of those idyllic little jungle islands ringed by white sandy beaches with crystal clear water. Our boat was basic, but we were fortunate enough to be on the same one as a bar owner who was bringing seat cushions over to the island - which made for a most comfortable nap. As we approached it looked lovely - everything very rustic and thatched, no cars etc and I thought how it was the first island that wasn't a disappointment after the joy of the Gilis. On closer inspection it was far more basic than the Gilis. There was no road, just the beach, the bars had electricity but everything was run from a generator that was only on from 5.30pm-10.30pm. It is still fairly untouched, there isn't a way to walk safely around it (unless you fancy a bit of jungle trekking and after hearing that 10of Cambodia's poisonous snakes were resident we passed) so there is a short stretch that has everything. <br />Our accommodation here was CoCo Bungalows - basic thatched 'bungalows' with no mod cons, open to the elements (walls and ceilings have no need to meet) and as we soon found out, a few added extras. Before I'd even put my bag down Lauren and I had 3 children and a cat. The three little girls were overjoyed to be presented with skittles and a snapping watch and soon we had 6 children all sitting on the porch sharing out the small bag of candy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We went to see what the island had to offer, had a lovely seafood BBQ and returned at leisure to our residence. The 'bathroom' was along a 'path' (the sort of uneven paving that Accident Direct would love) about 100m from the bungalow. I use the term 'bathroom' in the loosest sense - there was one bare bulb outside, rendering the inside almost completely dark which added to the damp feeling (as did the giant snails and mushrooms growing on the wooden walls). The toilets were a pour-water-in-and-flush-yourself type (there was a frog in the bucket) and outside by the bulb and the sinks (with suspiciously coloured water) were a family of arachnids the size of hands. Needless to say it was not a calming pre bed routine. We stumbled back to the room and opening the door I saw four separate rats scuttle in different directions. Four. The room was a bit like a giant hamster play pen with beams and poles everywhere, but rats clackiting along a pole at dado height right by your bed is not what you need! And obviously the cat was nowhere to be seen. We both got into one bed for safety and slept in the very centre being sure not to touch the mosquito net on any side. Once we'd been brave enough to turn the light off it wasn't long before the sound of something falling over made us jump. The head torch was on in a flash and we scanned the room...the Julie packet (some wafers we'd had as snacks on the boat down to sihanoukville) was on the floor and there was a rat in the bin. We used a broom to move the bin outside and attempted to go to sleep. Our night was interrupted by all sorts of miniature scampering and fighting squeaks - I woke up at one point to find Lauren with the headtorch watching two noses poking out of the corner. Our mosquito net protection seemed worryingly thin (and trapped a mosquito which was juicy by the time we found it in the morning). Morning came round soon enough!<br /> <br />As we walked along the jetty we saw a little boy who had just caught a little fish. As we we drew the breath to saw 'awww' he swung the line behind him, over his head an smashed the fish on the floor (imagine an overarm throw). An anti-awww moment. We were a little speechless. Our day on the boat was good fun, but a second waterproof camera proved itself not to be waterproof and I have been spoiled by learning to dive in Indonesia as despite our dive master guide saying how amazing the dive had been, it was very average.<br />When we were back on the island we decided to go and watch the sunset from the beautiful briny sea - it took much longer than expected, but we waited for darkness to fall so we could see the phosphorescent bacteria. It was very cool and we had lots of fun larking about (until realising it was actually quite chilly out of the water).<br />The evening passed by in much the same way as the others and although we could hear the rats, we didn't actually see any which sort of made us feel better. Until the morning when one of our rodent friends was brazenly sitting on the wooden surround of the bed. You can imagine how shrill I was. <br /> <br />So we checked out of Casa del Rat and set sail for the mainland (sadly minus the comfy cushions). We'd booked to stay in another shack style dorm in Otres (there isn't much choice) as Bryony was joining us again. Sadly she'd eaten a bad shrimp and was unable to move anywhere with a shared bathroom so came to meet us the day after instead, and 2 became 3 once more. Our last couple of days were spent much like the first, with sunset swims out to fishing boats (which with a bit of team work you could ungracefully fall into and jump off again). <br /> <br />With my Asian journey coming to a close we reluctantly booked a bus to take us back up to Phnom Penh. We spent our last morning on the beach and as we went in to change the heavens opened. Our cue to leave! One wet and bumpy tuktuk ride later we were deposited at the bus station. Everyone loves a bus journey. Yawn.<br /><br /> </span>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-71677640886200967192012-12-06T06:10:00.001+00:002012-12-06T06:10:08.363+00:00Hello Cambodia! Angkor What Now?I take back anything negative I said about SE Asia... Cambodia is amazing (currently judging on one town). We flew to Siem Reap for our first stop, beautiful airport, getting visa and bag back was a breeze and the friendly tuktuk drivers didn't pounce, but were there ready to take us to town for exactly the price mentioned in the book. I mean it is hotter than anywhere else on earth with no breeze and a million mozzies, but it's pretty, it's sunny and the people are, dare I say so early on, really nice! <br />
<br />
After checking in at a very cheap guest house (no a/c = steamy old night) we went exploring the delightful town of Siem Reap with its bustling night markets that actually have nice things in (don't get me wrong, there is still endless tat and the 'you buy something laydeeeeee' is still ever there) but it was just nicer.<br />
<br />
Having decided a sunrise is a sunrise and our cameras are all so average that googling photos would show it in a far better light we opted to go to the Temples of Angkor for the more sociable time of around 9am. We had planned to cycle there and around as the roads are flat but Siem Reap is the hottest and stickiest place in the world and we were beading before we'd even left the guesthouse so we opted for tuktuk, which in hindsight was a most excellent decision. Our driver, Sinat, was very sweet - clueless on any facts - but very sweet and took us on a great route. There's a lot of walking/climbing around at Angkor and it did not take long before our clothes were stuck to us as we melted in the entirely still air.<br />
Now, we all know I'm not a temple person, but Angkor Wat is one of those you-can't-go-to-Cambodia-and-not-see-it things that we felt we had to do and I can see why. It really is something, especially when you think about how on earth they built these things all those years ago. Although saying that as we were driving there was a<br />
'I think that's Angkor Wat'<br />
'No, it's not impressive enough to be Angkor Wat'<br />
'Yeah, mist be one of the smaller ones' <br />
exchange. It did turn out to be Angkor Wat and while it was very large, we preferred the other ones. They are very well kept and you can explore every nook and cranny. <br />
<br />
We spent the day navigating the ruins in the sweltering heat and although it we really enjoyed it, one day was definitely enough...I can't think what you'd do with a week long pass. <br />
<br />
With Bryony's boyfriend flying in for a few days 3 shortly became 2. We waved Bryony onto her bus, explored a bit more in the morning and by lunchtime a river of sweat was starting to gush down our backs. The only thing for it was to find a pool and not leave it until the sun had gone down. And what a pool we found! Nestled on top of a plush Hotel for a mere $5 we got a free drink and the afternoon around a gloriously cool pool. It was another 'backpacking is tough' moment as the barman came round to offer us a 'fruit skewer?'. Bliss. <br />
<br />
That evening, after a Cambodian BBQ (what you need in the heat is an additional heat source on the table with which to cook your own meat - I tried kangaroo!), we decided to see what the nightlife had to offer. We headed to the aptly named 'Pub Street'. Hideous, grubby, drunk tourists was the answer. Angkor What? Was more Angkor What on earth are you thinking? Obviously we joined in but it was very much a laugh at not laugh with kind of a night. I mean some of these people were horrendous. We ended up being Gretta and Heidi from Bulgaria just in case we ever bumped into anyone again.<br />
<br />
So with another culture tick in the box we decided to head down for some beach time at Sihanoukville the following day keeping all our fingers crossed Cambodian transport was a step up from their neighbour's efforts. <br />
<br />
In hindsight staying out until 3am the morning before a 6am bus pick up was foolish. We weren't foolish enough to drink heavily but the 5.45am alarm roused us from the very depth of slumber. Also in hindsight trying new things and cooking our own food was a risky little game before a 6hour boat trip but thankfully this didn't have any repercussions. So our lovely guest house owners helped us into a tuktuk with some French toast for the journey. The ride to the 'port' was very bumpy and we arrived a choice shade of orange clutching our lovingly made breakfasts. We boarded our vessel, found two seats and after devouring the lovingly made breakfast attempted to sleep. Unsuccessfully. I had seen some legs disappear up onto the roof where the bags were and we went to investigate. There was a couple up there . Given that the majority of our co-passengers were on some sort of German saga holiday it was pretty much only us and another young couple agile enough to climb up. I can only imagine what this couple thought as we clambered up ungracefully, crawled along on our hands and knees and proceeded to fall deeply, deeply asleep, starfished on the roof. Aside from nipping down for a mid morning snack this is how our journey was spent. The bits we were awake for were very scenic and we passed all sorts of floating fishing villages. <br />
<br />
We eventually got to Phnom Pehn and booking an onwards bus to Sihanoukville was remarkably easy and we only had to wait an hour for a bus. Someone once told me to pack a fleece for Asian buses because the temperature is akin to a Siberian winter. I would love to know where this happens because every bus I have been on has been trying to cook me. A combination of the driver moving at a glacial pace, a number of unscheduled repair stops (who doesn't love a bus that breaks down every 20minites) and Cambodian roads meant our 3 hour bus journey took over 8. 18+ hours to travel 200odd miles. I could have flown back to London quicker! This journey also included one of the most terrifying loo stops of my life (not even my mighty bladder can last 18hours) so I made Lauren stand guard as I fended off flying beasties, crawling beasties, jumping beasties and biting beasties over a squat toilet. Ugh. When we eventually arrived we drove around in a tuktuk and after an hour or so eventually found somewhere that wasn't full. It was next to the local club, but it had a bed for us, which given that we had done nothing but sit and nap (and watch House) all day, we were surprisingly pleased to see!<br />
<br />
Oh, and one night we had 3 scoops of ice cream. With no regrets.<br />
<br />
Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-24759149238728057132012-11-29T12:06:00.002+00:002012-11-29T12:06:56.459+00:00A Squash and a Squeeze: Sayonara Saigon<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ho Chi Minh (the city formerly known and still referred to as Saigon)
with its 14 lanes of traffic, millions of scooters and thousands of
hotels was a bit of a change from Russian beach town Mui Ne. It still
has all the hallmarks of your typical asian city: tat vendors, side
shops, kamikaze roads to cross, people wearing pajamas day to day, but
is a very different city to Hanoi and I think I like it more. There are
more open spaces, the roads are bigger (less of a chance to get lost in
the maze), the people seem nicer and it's hotter. It's only downside vs
Hanoi (aside from the threat of bag snatching) is that the numerous
fruit sellers find it acceptable to cut and serve durian in the streets
so every now and then you come across a less than favorable smell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">With
our new found interest in the Vietnam war we booked onto a tour to
visit the Ch Chi tunnels. We waited patiently for our bus in the morning
and eventually a small chap with a full head of flowing hair, high
waisted jeans, pink neckerchief and beautiful coffee coloured satin
shirt came to collect us. 'Jackie' (as in Chan) was a surviving soldier
with a childbirth obsession and a knowledgable and entertaining guide.
Our fellow bus friends were less than ideal - one giant Malaysian family
with odour problems which was quite something in the heat. As the only
europeans aboard we were banished to the back row. We did have a seat
each (5 between 3!) but there was no suspension so it was ever such a
bumpy ride. Jackie was also speaking to us about the war and childbirth
so there was no chance to nap. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Before we reached Cu Chi we
stopped at a workshop in which (mostly agent-orange affected) artists
were on a production line producing some amazing artwork and renovated
furniture including the bowls people barter outrageously for in the
markets. It was an eye opener when you saw the detail and effort behind
every piece, eggshell fragments individually embedded, mother of pearl
delicately placed and some pretty nifty brush work. Jackie threw a lot
of facts at us on the bus such as since the war there have been 60m
births hence why the population is so young, and because there are so
many people everything is handmade to increase employment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We
arrived at the tunnels and were joined by a larger group (huge troupe
of us now) and started the tour. (I should also mention that mr.chan
randomly bought Lauren an iceream which she graciously accepted in the
sweltering heat). Jackie was telling us all about the area and its
significance and explained that the original tunnels were small, cramped
and full of beasties and bats (as unused) and that they had some
example tunnels for tourists that were bigger to accommodate for
westerners. He asked if anyone wanted to go in the original tunnel and a
handsome Aussie lad volunteered. Jackie then moved some leaves aside an
revealed an extremely small hole in the floor. He handed Rick (the
handsome Aussie) his phone torch, put the lid back down and left him to
find the exit. About a minute later he appeared and other than being a
bit sweaty seemed unscathed. A very small handful of people then decided
that ok, they'd try and for some reason the three of us thought we
would too. I mostly blame Lucy for this as I'd seen a photo of her going
into the hole and in a tunnel so didn't think it would be that bad.
Mistake. Wrong tunnel. Down we went, Bryony, me, Lauren, and once we'd
squeezed in there was no going back. It. Was. AWFUL. We were on hands
and knees, shoulders touching the walls on both sides, hands on leaves
and god knows what (cockroaches and giant millipedes scuttling over
them) and bats on the ceiling (happily Bryony was first so they mostly
flew into her). Apparently it was only about 10m long but it twisted as
turned, was hot as hell, pitch black and quite frankly terrifying. I
worked very hard to suppress the rising panic and thankfully this made
Lauren and Bryony much calmer as they attempted to calm me. We stayed
very close indeed! After a lifetime (about 2 minutes) we heard voices,
saw light and THANK THE LORD we at the exit. We emerged sweaty, grubby
and shaky,adrenaline pumping. We then realised we hadn't taken a photo
(what with the horror and all) so decided to nip into the entrance for a
photo op, safe in the knowledge head would be above ground and we
wouldn't have to go in again. Bryony and Lauren hopped in, said cheese
and climbed out again. I hopped in, said cheese and did NOT pop back out
again. As it would happen fatty Wright here has hips decidedly more
sizable than the average ayjahn (and the other two!) and lack the upper
body strength required to push them back the way they (seemingly
effortlessly) came. How hilarious, then less hilarious, then slightly
alarming and, on the suggestion I crawl back though, full on panic.
There was nothing to put my feet on for help below so I was entirely
reliant on arms which had turned to jelly in my (clearly still
hilarious) panic. A German man started filming as a couple of the guides
attempted to pull me out but I was hot and they weren't helping. Bryony
snapped away as Lauren came to my aid and after another lifetime (about
30seconds) I managed to hoof my ass out and clamber out. It was
thoroughly ungraceful and simultaneously terrifying, humiliating and
very funny. It put me right off my lunch. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Moving on we
were shown some horrific Vietnamese booby traps and told more about the
very gruesome war. When we got to the 'tourist tunnel' which was
bigger, had some lighting and no beasties I couldn't bring myself to go
in, so visited at the various safety exits to see how they were getting
on. Given my horror on a 10m journey I didn't feel like 200m! I don't
think they realised the tunnels were like microphones and everyone on
the ground could hear them bleating on about their sweaty mustaches and
how they were hotter than baboons. As they had got on fine I did go in
the last tunnel, which was about 50m and took you to an underground
room. There was still a lot of adrenaline but it was a lot less scary
(including seeing a tail disappear into the wall) as we grappled about
in the dark and we managed to laugh our way though. It makes you think
though - we couldn't cope with two minutes in the actual tunnel and they
lived underground for years. Shudder. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMTHp-vmsHf-_myKKE20ImBLxlDyqvjCnr80zppEkjnHIBm9_9X97fpBG5jOiUo8HBLuU-eZ8eM-1WLSG0OsJhup2MozryTk8Bfu4EB9CYhEx8Gv_jdVtuNNZgOsFtsgjrvr3riuRA5U/s1600/P1030399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMTHp-vmsHf-_myKKE20ImBLxlDyqvjCnr80zppEkjnHIBm9_9X97fpBG5jOiUo8HBLuU-eZ8eM-1WLSG0OsJhup2MozryTk8Bfu4EB9CYhEx8Gv_jdVtuNNZgOsFtsgjrvr3riuRA5U/s400/P1030399.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ever the thrilling company</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">tiny original (taken using camera flash to provide light!)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-DkOz67cZi9_QM7-yNw-3oAON6EKDHRYXFsywDIgvZ3vjsQd4U5pyFwnqd2g05vtIivRNrRQYggdoMWw24LOUl6Oqkw3Hk-4drBzuFk5w2q8xu_I2N_F6BQ7i6F1_5C41XTV1oRIitY/s1600/P1030415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-DkOz67cZi9_QM7-yNw-3oAON6EKDHRYXFsywDIgvZ3vjsQd4U5pyFwnqd2g05vtIivRNrRQYggdoMWw24LOUl6Oqkw3Hk-4drBzuFk5w2q8xu_I2N_F6BQ7i6F1_5C41XTV1oRIitY/s400/P1030415.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Realising I was stuck</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7TQ5NDOAbBk5TrfkJhH2oI5NkeAsCsgjs-niGFo_Did1LFsapv1lrZMCijd9k97USnqdOkevTaHlRqKvGZHSdpgTnmEGtzQICyy2SCr0ksgKm4QoYiiVfAxN8XV0mWDuPYc-_6Ch5Ok/s1600/P1030434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7TQ5NDOAbBk5TrfkJhH2oI5NkeAsCsgjs-niGFo_Did1LFsapv1lrZMCijd9k97USnqdOkevTaHlRqKvGZHSdpgTnmEGtzQICyy2SCr0ksgKm4QoYiiVfAxN8XV0mWDuPYc-_6Ch5Ok/s400/P1030434.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The 'Bigger' tourist tunnel</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Aside from discovering I'm claustrophobic other Ho Chi Minh activities have included a fair amount of wandering (we are much better with bearings here than in Hanoi), the War Remnants Museum (a one sided, graphic look at the war), reunification palace, lots of parks (with bizarre outdoor gyms), bryony finally found her blinking bandana (it feels like an epic journey), tasty market food and frozen yoghurt heaven.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">After a relatively event free (tunnel aside) few days something had to crop up before we left and that came in the form of a tiff with our hotel. It was a lovely guest house but we got our washing done and it came back dirty - it neither smelled nor looked clean, so we brought this up and sent it back where they grudgingly did it again. Our grubby cu chi clothes also came back less than fresh (I re-washed mine by hand in the sink afterwards and they were clean with minimal effort so wasn't hard). It wasn't much washing, but it wasn't clean and so we weren't happy paying for the final batch (we had paid for everything else). Eventually the woman snapped and told us to get our stuff and get out, so out we went into the midday heat to kill a couple of hours before our flight. They're a feisty bunch! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Spending a month in 'nam (man) has been an eye opener. We have travelled the length of the country by car, bus, local bus, sleeper bus, train, boat, foot, bike, and motorbike (not to mention quad bike, kayak, sledge and jet ski) - I will never berate south west trains again. And bryony has trodden on my toes more times than i care to count. The only thing left is to fly out... I only wonder what Cambodia has to offer.</span>Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4882799234506751797.post-60371307994586262122012-11-25T07:57:00.001+00:002012-11-25T07:57:57.353+00:00Let's go to the beach beach!For our last day in Hoi An we were treated to a full hour of sunshine which we used to pedal to the beach. On arrival it promptly clouded over but it was still dry so we were happy. It wasn't long before the heavens opened so on went the ponchos, Lauren hopped on the back of the bike and we used the heaviest rain so far as a perfect time to browse the shops (awful idea) before heading back to our hotel to wait for The Sleeper Bus.<br />
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The term 'sleeper' bus is extremely misleading. Instead of the standard coach seats we know and loathe the bus is decked out with two levels of pleather recliners with a box at the end for your feet. Obviously it was raining and obviously I was next to a leaky window, so that was nice. As it was about 6pm we were expecting a bit of chat but the lights were swiftly turned out so we entertained ourselves with eye-spy, I-went-shopping and other such classics. Our driver's favourite games appeared to be 'chicken' with the oncoming traffic (braking so you were rammed into the foot box) and 'beep-the-wretched-horn-as-much-as-I-can'. Our confidence in him only increased after he stopped at about 10pm to drink an entire bottle of rice wine. This being 'nam (man) there obviously a few locals crammed in for good measure and us being lucky they slept in the (very narrow) aisle right next to us. I mean he may as well have been spooning me and various limbs invaded my pleather personal space all night. The stop-start journey of no sleep and Bryony's bursting bladder (she actually fell on me at one point) continued until we were unceremoniously turfed out in Nha Trang at 5.30am...and to think we had foolishly assumed our 'direct bus to mui ne' would be direct. Still we were ejected right next to a cafe which sold coffee and pain at chocolat so there are worse places to be stranded. My bag also felt like it had been thrown in a puddle. A couple of hours later we were picked up by another bus (seats not beds) and had a wonderfully horn free, event free, multiple seats journey to Mui Ne. I wanted to hug the driver. (I say event free, we did make one stop en route to a very strange place playing pan pipe Christmas music with one of the greatest nativity scenes I've ever seen -think neon lights and dolls). <br />
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Arriving in Mui Ne was great and after RainFest 2012 it was a welcome scene - a sandy beach that stretched on for miles and SUN. It is also a kitesurfing Mecca so plenty of beach entertainment, mozzies kept at bay, a chance to go windsurfing again and a smattering of handsome men in board shorts to boot.<br />
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All this wind made me think I should at least attempt a watersport. As it had been about 6 years since I set foot on a windsurfing board I felt I should get a refresher before merrily hiring some equipment. The only option was a beginner lesson on the morning -no such thing a a refresher it turns out - but Bryony was keen to try and Katie and Dave (our scooter friends who we bump into in every town) were up for it too. So the 4 of us arrived at 8am ready for a morning of fun. An illusion that was promptly shattered the moment we met our instructor Darko the Grouch, an angry, bald Russian man with little to no people skills. <br />
We had a land lesson (my favourite) where he barked contradictory instructions at us 'LOOKA DOWN' ...'DON'T LOOKADOWN LOOKA ME, WHY YOU LOOKADOWN?' whilst explaining the basics (which was like being taught to snow plow again). He also patted the ends of my toes to move my feet so I shrieked and I'm still not sure he knew why (donttouchmytoesihavenonails). When we finally made it into the water (we were half cooked at this point) the others believed my reassurances of 'its easier on the water' and to Darko The Grouch's credit we were all up and sailing around very quickly. Whether it was excellent instruction 'LOOKA DE ANGLE', natural talent or fear of being shouted at I'm not sure. Every time I did anything I remembered from the old days I was told to get back to the starting position and pootle along holding the mast. Lauren (still stitched at this point) was basting on the beach too afraid to congratulate us incase Darko turned on her. Still it was great fun being back out on the waterand even more fun to laugh at 'Brownie' being 'instructed'. 'BROWNIE BACK AND OPEN, NO BROWNIE FRONT AND POWER, BROWNIE JUMP IN'. He did soften a little towards the end but we didn't come back for more and left a little deafer than when we arrived.<br />
The morning exertions had taken it out of us so we spent the remainder of the afternoon frolicking in the sea and enjoying the beach. The marvelous, sandy, sunny beach. <br />
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The only downside to the beach is that I'm up to my usual tricks and no matter how hard I try, I've brought a lot of the beach into our room so we are ALWAYS SANDY. I mean there was so much sand on my bed I might as well have been sleeping on the beach.<br />
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Another Mui Ne plus is that Sarah (who i met in Bali) was in town so I had a friend to play with in the morning. We had grand plans but they never amounted to much more than strolling along the beach and finding fruit shakes. One morning as the others slept off their red bull heads I met Sarah for breakfast and went exploring to discover a little more of the Russian town and find a jeep to take us on a sand dune adventure in the afternoon.<br />
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We started by visiting Fairy spring, a scenic walk up a stream to a fairly unremarkable waterfall, then had a micro stop at a fishing village - very picturesque boats but most definitely a place that should be seen and not smelled as we were surrounded by rotting sea crustaceans and numerous rats feasting on the various remains. We moved swiftly on.<br />
To the white sand dunes! These were very pretty white sand dunes (the name rather gives it away) that spring up randomly in the middle of nowhere. Our jeep bumped on up the 'road' and we transferred to our atv sand buggies/quad bikes. New thing I learned about myself: I am terrible at driving atvs on sand. With my new motorbiking prowess and quad biking history I was sure I'd have no worries as I zipped off, but I promptly swerved all over the shop and nearly fell off in front of everybody. Lauren and Bryony were cautious Sallies as I zoomed around with Sarah and Amy. All was well for, oh, 5 minutes until we went to scale a larger dune. Sarah and Amy's buggy beached itself and I watched on and laughed as the back wheels sunk deeper and deeper into the sand. Being the Good Samaritan I am I went to find the children who were lurking about to help us ridiculous tourists when things got sticky. But I got stuck in a sand bowl. I found reverse (information I attempted to shout over to a sinking Amy) but all I did was manage to move backwards and forwards for what felt like forever. I eventually made it out but it was back the way I came so we were no better off. As the sun started to set help arrived and with more than a little help we were on the path back to base. Not our finest moment. <br />
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As we had fannied about getting marooned we were a little behind schedule so instead of arriving at the red dunes (these are red sand dunes, again, imaginatively named) in time for sunset we arrived when the sun had most definitely set. However since this was the 'sand sledging' spot we were getting out for a slide! We took a sheet of plastic (opting for one between two since we were only going for the one slide) and started the trudge up the dunes. As Bryony mounted me it became quickly apparent that two on one was not going to work, so now covered in sand we got one each and made the thoroughly underwhelming sledge down, then trudged back up and back down to our waiting jeep. <br />
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The following morning Sarah and I decided to go for a morning SUP before the wind picked up. Unfortunately it was an extra windy morning and the sea looked a little choppy so we abandoned our balancing plans and after our sand buggy success we decided to rent a jet ski. So I learned a few things about jet skis.<br />
#1 They are much harder to operate than they seem<br />
#2 They roll with incredible ease<br />
#3 They would make an appalling first date ('have I got snot running down my face?)<br />
#4 They hurt.<br />
#5 They cause joy and terror in equal measure.<br />
#6 You can lose your sunnies very easily<br />
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Sarah requested I drive, then asked me to be safe having seen my buggy driving. After no distance at all it was clear that we had made a mistake so we flagged one of the hire guys to drive us in...but he actually took us on one of the most terrifying, endless 15 minutes of my life. I was still at the front, Sarah clinging to my life jacket straps, me clinging to her legs (there was nothing to hold) and our death master at the back leaning over to drive the thing. It was too choppy for SUPing and definitely too choppy for jet skis. It was like being on a bucking bronco made of rock and I am nursing the bruises to prove it. He must have thought my screams of 'let's go in' we're actually 'let's not go in' as he teased us with the shore. Going back to the beach ended up being the worst part of it as he hit the throttle and went full pelt towards the beach. I didn't lose my teeth as feared but I did need a sit down afterwards.<br />
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After experiencing the open sea I decided it was also too windy for windsurfing, so we did what we did best - lay on the beach and watched the professionals. Aaaaand relax.<br />
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One last thing, Gary Sinise is living in Mui Ne disguised as lieutenant Dan in the boat bit of Forrest Gump.Felicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15062195247579805770noreply@blogger.com0