Monday 28 April 2014
Brisbane to Sydney (Cycle) Part Two
Kempsey to Telegraph point. (30km).
(Picked up telegraph point to Port Macquarie 20kms).
I’d only gone about 30km at this stage (just past telegraph point) but there was no town near and I got another flat on the back wheel. (I attempted to change it myself, got frustrated and sat down. Had to jump up quick smart though because the tar was melting from the sun. It was only a few days later that I realised it had melted through my shorts and I had a very small piece of the Pacific Highway stuck to my arse! Disaster.)
So this guy stopped and kindly went out of his way to bring me to Port Macquarie. For those who are unfamiliar with Australia, basically, the country shuts down at one o’clock on Saturday and reopens on Monday (I’m obviously not talking about Sydney/Melbourne/etc). So I had just missed the bike shops.
Checked into a hostel, the $29 did sting a little I must admit. I cheered up when the Manager came into the room, handed me a beer ‘cause apparently I looked like I needed one!
Was so tired the next day I paid for another night and slept through for hours.
Day 8/9 (ish!!)
Port Macquarie to Taree (80kms).
After dark, I snuck into a caravan site. First, I unhooked the saddle bags from the bike and I slowly slid down the dirt hill with them. I climbed back up the hill. Next, very carefully with the bike in my hands (because it was a rough hill) I slide down again – I felt a bit like mission impossible with all the slippin’ and slidin’ and creepin’. It started to drizzle so I lay under a caravan’s tarp. I’d say I barely got 4 hours of broken sleep that night. I woke up at about half 4 and next thing I heard “You ‘right mate?” “ehhh... yeah... just... had a quick sleep” (thinking PLEASE don’t get mad!!) “Right........... do ya want a cuppa so?” True Aussie style!
Day 9 – Taree to Karuah. (117km).
Checked into a campsite – I just NEEDED to be in a place where I could actually shower (rather than public toilet showers) and hopefully go to bed early and sleep! Slept on the couch in the campsite – felt like luxury!
Day 10 – Karuah to The Entrance (111km).
About 20km from the Entrance I got a flat. Nothing was around. Pumped it up at the petrol station and chanced it. Only got to Budgewoi and realised the back tyre had no chance. Cheapest room in Budgewoi was $100. I had less than $250 in my bank account so ehh, that was a no thanks! It had been raining on and off and I didn’t want to stay outside.
So I went around the corner, sat down on the kerb and burst into tears. I was stressed. A few minutes later, this Australian guy and his Welsh nephew came over, sat down and had a chat with me. After talking for a short while, he stood up and said, “So are you gonna come get this sorted or are we going to sit here and cry?’”I told him that actually, I was just planning on sitting there and crying. They got me sorted.
Got a hostel at the entrance that night and it was lovely - ate loads, watched crappy reality TV about a stage-mother and her massive-fake boobs. In my element.
Day 11/12 – The Entrance to Sydney (95km minus 40km from a lift).
Bike hadn’t been properly fixed the night before so I needed to get onto that. There were no bike shops open. This is where I met Carl. True Australian bloke, drove Harleys, drank beer, and had the nicest dog ever!!
He went completely out of his way to help me (even though he was busy getting ready for his daughters wedding the next day) and gave me two old pennies from 1964 for good luck, obviously I still have them in my purse!
He said that he’d give me a lift back to the main road because I might get lost from their home. Although I wanted to do it all myself, at this stage I was fairly fragile, so I agreed.
He actually ended up giving me a lift the full 40km to the ferry. I was too tired to argue and he was a good laugh.
Got off the ferry at SUMMER BAY!! Not a Braxton brother in sight unfortunately but I was still happy.
I eventually got to Sydney, it quite cool cycling over the Harbour Bridge, got myself a ‘Dirty Granny’ Cider at the Opera House, and that was that.
Spent about 11 or 12 days cycling, four nights outdoors, two free couches, one campsite couch, one creepy pub-hotel room, the rest in hostels, and way too many punctures (I think I got about 5 free repairs), saw some amazing sights, avoided so much roadkill and cycled 1000km. It is most-definitely nothing of sporting or fitness achievement, I know that!!!! It didn’t work out exactly as I envisioned but it was an adventure nonetheless, with more stories than even I could get through. The one thing that struck me more than anything was the generosity and kindness that I received. Australians are sound. I’ll never get over how many people did so much for me!! Would I do it again? Eh... No. I’ve learned my lesson now but, it was fun all the same!
(Picked up telegraph point to Port Macquarie 20kms).
I’d only gone about 30km at this stage (just past telegraph point) but there was no town near and I got another flat on the back wheel. (I attempted to change it myself, got frustrated and sat down. Had to jump up quick smart though because the tar was melting from the sun. It was only a few days later that I realised it had melted through my shorts and I had a very small piece of the Pacific Highway stuck to my arse! Disaster.)
Checked into a hostel, the $29 did sting a little I must admit. I cheered up when the Manager came into the room, handed me a beer ‘cause apparently I looked like I needed one!
Was so tired the next day I paid for another night and slept through for hours.
Day 8/9 (ish!!)
Port Macquarie to Taree (80kms).
After dark, I snuck into a caravan site. First, I unhooked the saddle bags from the bike and I slowly slid down the dirt hill with them. I climbed back up the hill. Next, very carefully with the bike in my hands (because it was a rough hill) I slide down again – I felt a bit like mission impossible with all the slippin’ and slidin’ and creepin’. It started to drizzle so I lay under a caravan’s tarp. I’d say I barely got 4 hours of broken sleep that night. I woke up at about half 4 and next thing I heard “You ‘right mate?” “ehhh... yeah... just... had a quick sleep” (thinking PLEASE don’t get mad!!) “Right........... do ya want a cuppa so?” True Aussie style!
Day 9 – Taree to Karuah. (117km).
Checked into a campsite – I just NEEDED to be in a place where I could actually shower (rather than public toilet showers) and hopefully go to bed early and sleep! Slept on the couch in the campsite – felt like luxury!
Day 10 – Karuah to The Entrance (111km).
About 20km from the Entrance I got a flat. Nothing was around. Pumped it up at the petrol station and chanced it. Only got to Budgewoi and realised the back tyre had no chance. Cheapest room in Budgewoi was $100. I had less than $250 in my bank account so ehh, that was a no thanks! It had been raining on and off and I didn’t want to stay outside.
So I went around the corner, sat down on the kerb and burst into tears. I was stressed. A few minutes later, this Australian guy and his Welsh nephew came over, sat down and had a chat with me. After talking for a short while, he stood up and said, “So are you gonna come get this sorted or are we going to sit here and cry?’”I told him that actually, I was just planning on sitting there and crying. They got me sorted.
Got a hostel at the entrance that night and it was lovely - ate loads, watched crappy reality TV about a stage-mother and her massive-fake boobs. In my element.
Day 11/12 – The Entrance to Sydney (95km minus 40km from a lift).
Bike hadn’t been properly fixed the night before so I needed to get onto that. There were no bike shops open. This is where I met Carl. True Australian bloke, drove Harleys, drank beer, and had the nicest dog ever!!
He went completely out of his way to help me (even though he was busy getting ready for his daughters wedding the next day) and gave me two old pennies from 1964 for good luck, obviously I still have them in my purse!
He said that he’d give me a lift back to the main road because I might get lost from their home. Although I wanted to do it all myself, at this stage I was fairly fragile, so I agreed.
He actually ended up giving me a lift the full 40km to the ferry. I was too tired to argue and he was a good laugh.
Got off the ferry at SUMMER BAY!! Not a Braxton brother in sight unfortunately but I was still happy.
I eventually got to Sydney, it quite cool cycling over the Harbour Bridge, got myself a ‘Dirty Granny’ Cider at the Opera House, and that was that.
Spent about 11 or 12 days cycling, four nights outdoors, two free couches, one campsite couch, one creepy pub-hotel room, the rest in hostels, and way too many punctures (I think I got about 5 free repairs), saw some amazing sights, avoided so much roadkill and cycled 1000km. It is most-definitely nothing of sporting or fitness achievement, I know that!!!! It didn’t work out exactly as I envisioned but it was an adventure nonetheless, with more stories than even I could get through. The one thing that struck me more than anything was the generosity and kindness that I received. Australians are sound. I’ll never get over how many people did so much for me!! Would I do it again? Eh... No. I’ve learned my lesson now but, it was fun all the same!
Brisbane to Sydney (Cycle) Part One
When I got to Brisbane at the start of January I was at a bit of a loose end, I had two weeks before I was due to go to Sydney and I knew I had no interest in spending it in Brisbane
I had been in Brisbane a few days when, at about 11pm, Tuesday the 7th of January, the idea struck me – why don’t I cycle to Sydney! It might seem like a bit of an odd notion but, I think I the idea had been planted in my head the year before - while I was working in a remote Roadhouse in the Northern Territory. We would get the odd cyclist passing through, and although I did think they were mad, it also seemed pretty cool!
Now, while I was in Brisbane, I had finally gotten the chance to catch up with my beloved pal, Eimear. It was so good to see her but she warned me not to just suddenly up and leave with some mad notion. I promised her I wouldn’t. Oh well.
After I bought the bike, I rang her and told her the new plan of action. Her reply? ‘Oh thank god, I thought you were going to tell me about some crazy notion’. Quite pleased with that, I hung up, although it did make me question Eimear’s definition of a crazy notion? The next day she came over and had decided that cycling over 900km on my own, in Australia, actually wasn’t my most sensible idea yet.
Leaving behind a lot of my stuff and despite all the doubt from the people in my hostel, I set off on Saturday Morning. No map (sure what would I be doin’ with a map, can’t read them anyway), no particular sense of direction, not particularly fit and absolutely no biking knowledge (unless knowing how to peddle counts).
So on to the Gold Coast (Surfer’s Paradise), QLD. (85kms).
The first day, I used Google Maps, what a thorn in my side – I just couldn’t be doin’ with all the unnecessary directions on it. After about a million wrong turns I eventually made it to the Gold Coast. I was given four no’s at hostels before I got a place; was beginning to feel a bit like Mary and the donkey in Bethlehem (on a slightly less noble mission, perhaps).
The next day I set off early to Brunswick Heads, NSW, 93km away.
The second morning was where my relationship with Google Maps pretty much ended and I relied, mostly, on locals for directions from there. Really nice cycle in the countryside, PLASTERED in suncream, pannier-bags were still feeling a bit heavy unfortunately though. Some seriously impressively vast farms and countryside on the way.
A bit outside of Byron, I got a puncture, on the back wheel and had to take a lift, the 11km, from someone into town, nothing I could do! Jettisoned a load of my stuff there – still held onto my tutu though. I had my priorities straight. The journey from Byron to Ballina was beautiful, took the ocean road for some of it and saw some beautiful coastal views. The countryside was nice too. Nothing but bush, road and the burning hot sun! The noise of the bush is insanely loud, deafening! Got to Brunswick Heads safe and sound and slept under the stars by the river. Of course I didn’t actually get that much sleep being outdoors! Saw the sunrise as the fishermen set out their little boats. Showered and washed my clothes in the public bathrooms and used the bicycle handlebars as my drying rack (that set the trend for a lot of the trip).
Day 3 - Onto Evans Head. (88km).
When I got to Evans Heads beach, I hopped straight into the ocean, it was class, gorgeous beach!
Made my way up to the look-out point and watched the sunset eating dinner from a tin.
Stayed with this old couple. I had been nervous about staying outside – still no tent – and they let me stay on their couch. Declan, the husband (a man with a liking for collecting knick-knacks) decided he would name his coal-black-aboriginal-statue, after me, and wanted to know if I’d jig. I didn’t.
Day 4 Evans Head to Yamba. (67km).
Loved the journey to Yamba, big farms with wide stretching crops, kangaroos galore, rivers, bushland.
Yamba is gorgeous. The back/shoulders/hands/thighs/arse were feelin’ it at this stage. Gorgeous sunset again. The tanlines were ridiculous, not even that I was particularly golden but, I was DISTINCTLY paler where my shorts and tshirt covered me. Never qualify as an Australian “beach babe”.
Destroyed by mozzie and sandfly bites last night – they nearly broke me. I must have got about 150 bites and a lot of them turned to whelts. Yock. Between all the bruises and the whelts on my legs, I looked like I’d developed feckin’ lepracy. Slept under the stars again last night. I didn’t get the best sleep, just a few hours again. Woke at ten to 4 so got to watch the sunrise on the beach which was cool.
Day 5 Yamba to Grafton (64km).
In Grafton ended up staying in this REALLY creepy pub room, jaysus I honestly thought Damien from the Shining might appear at any moment!
Bought a mosquito net while I was there.
Day 6 Grafton onto Urunga. (116km).
It was hot. Very hot. Had to wrap my sarong around my arms for fear of burning. Wonderful sunset and sunrise, slept outside at this beachy area.
Day 7 Urunga to Kemsey. (85km).
Kemsey stayed in this randomer's house. When I woke up Saturday morning the tyre had gone flat?? Went out a couple of kms to get it pumped up at a petrol station – it was a no go though and had a very kind rescue and repair.
Sunday 20 April 2014
Inner Peace and Prunes.
A few months ago, I, a meditating novice decided to undertake the Vipassana Meditation Course in Blackheath (Blue Mountains), NSW.
The Vipassana is a ten day course (but if you want to do it you actually need 12 days ‘cause there is registration day and then you stay there the night of day ten) in which you sit and meditate in silence. The day starts at 4am and meditation begins at half past 4. The day finishes at 9-9:30pm. So needless to say, it was quite the leap for someone who had never meditated a minute in her life, to sign up for a 17-hour-a-day course.
Now, I of course could go into much detail about all that I experienced in those ten days, and perhaps I will someday, but, not today.
After completing the ten day course, I was at a bit of a loose end, the bank account was standing grimly in the double-figured realm and to be honest, emotions had been stirred up from all this feckin’ self-observation and just ‘being’ (I say this last part tongue in cheek because it really is a wonderful experience).
So I decided to stay and ‘serve’ the next 10 day course, doing kitchen work. That again, was a truly great experience, and that was particularly down to the amazing people I worked with there.
While I was working there, I picked up a few bits and pieces about food. The things I didn’t know seemed to really amuse some of the older volunteers ‘do you not have that in Ireland?’ – We have ‘such a thing’ in Ireland, I would say, but I spent nearly four years on the pasta and beer diet in the spirit of most Irish students and the last year as a backpacker has been pretty similar. So I picked up a few bits and pieces about spices and amongst other things, I learned a thing or two about prunes.
Little did I know of the digestive circus that follows a good feed of prunes!! The way they were prepared and served in the morning made them very difficult to resist... But, it came at a price.
Something that I should have mentioned earlier, while I was sitting the course myself, I remember how the ‘servers’ sitting at the top always sat there like little Buddha statues, looking so still, so serene.
So after a decent serving of prunes in the morning, to go with my porridge, my body could not help but react. Sitting at the top of the hall, attempting to present a good and calm example to students sitting can be challenging enough but, it’s another thing, when you’re sitting there trying your living-best to battle an overwhelming urge to fart! It is also very hard to actually meditate with such a distraction!
And I wasn’t the only one! Occasionally it would get to much for one of us Dhamma workers and one would let rip, the first concern – a stony silence has just been broken, and second is it going to smell??
Long story short, after a while, I decided for my own sake, and everyone else’s, to opt for fresh fruit with my porridge instead.
Lesson learned – the journey to inner peace and excessive prune consumption do not go hand in hand. Also, looks can be deceiving. I’m sure to some other unsuspecting students sitting the course we also looked like still Buddha statues; little did they know the battle at hand (for myself, at least)!!!
The Vipassana is a ten day course (but if you want to do it you actually need 12 days ‘cause there is registration day and then you stay there the night of day ten) in which you sit and meditate in silence. The day starts at 4am and meditation begins at half past 4. The day finishes at 9-9:30pm. So needless to say, it was quite the leap for someone who had never meditated a minute in her life, to sign up for a 17-hour-a-day course.
Now, I of course could go into much detail about all that I experienced in those ten days, and perhaps I will someday, but, not today.
After completing the ten day course, I was at a bit of a loose end, the bank account was standing grimly in the double-figured realm and to be honest, emotions had been stirred up from all this feckin’ self-observation and just ‘being’ (I say this last part tongue in cheek because it really is a wonderful experience).
So I decided to stay and ‘serve’ the next 10 day course, doing kitchen work. That again, was a truly great experience, and that was particularly down to the amazing people I worked with there.
While I was working there, I picked up a few bits and pieces about food. The things I didn’t know seemed to really amuse some of the older volunteers ‘do you not have that in Ireland?’ – We have ‘such a thing’ in Ireland, I would say, but I spent nearly four years on the pasta and beer diet in the spirit of most Irish students and the last year as a backpacker has been pretty similar. So I picked up a few bits and pieces about spices and amongst other things, I learned a thing or two about prunes.
Little did I know of the digestive circus that follows a good feed of prunes!! The way they were prepared and served in the morning made them very difficult to resist... But, it came at a price.
Something that I should have mentioned earlier, while I was sitting the course myself, I remember how the ‘servers’ sitting at the top always sat there like little Buddha statues, looking so still, so serene.
So after a decent serving of prunes in the morning, to go with my porridge, my body could not help but react. Sitting at the top of the hall, attempting to present a good and calm example to students sitting can be challenging enough but, it’s another thing, when you’re sitting there trying your living-best to battle an overwhelming urge to fart! It is also very hard to actually meditate with such a distraction!
And I wasn’t the only one! Occasionally it would get to much for one of us Dhamma workers and one would let rip, the first concern – a stony silence has just been broken, and second is it going to smell??
Long story short, after a while, I decided for my own sake, and everyone else’s, to opt for fresh fruit with my porridge instead.
Lesson learned – the journey to inner peace and excessive prune consumption do not go hand in hand. Also, looks can be deceiving. I’m sure to some other unsuspecting students sitting the course we also looked like still Buddha statues; little did they know the battle at hand (for myself, at least)!!!
Saturday 19 April 2014
A Lesson Sorely Learned.
Very recently, I hit a low point, money wise. A very low point. Now, this has happened several times while I’ve been travelling, but, I guess this happened just one time too many and it made me feel a bit tired. I had moved to Melbourne only three weeks before that and between booking my ticket home and the jigs and the reels I had nooo cash, I think I got down to about $50 before my sister sent me money through Western Union, thanks bejaysus!
Anyway, my hostel was a story unto itself – I couldn’t quite place if it reminded me more of ‘This is England’ or ‘The Snapper’ but, let me tell you, it was old school. Definitely a bit dingy, kind of cosy in a run-down way, if ya get me? It was a grand place, met some nice people, lived off the free jumbo packet of weetabix in the ‘Free Food Box’ for a few days and sure I was grand! I had been looking up jobs, anything at all on Gumtree and luckily I got a few hours in this cafe in Fitzroy (great place!!! – grungy, alternative, lots of ‘health’ food, and just a nice hint of pretension) which kept me ticking over but it wasn’t enough really. So anyway, I got a call from the very lovely Kim, who offered me a job up in Gunnedah.
Now, for those of you who are not familiar with Gunnedah, NSW, like nearly everyone, Gunnedah is about 6 hours inland (by train) from Sydney. It took me about 19hours (approx. 1100km) to get there from Melbourne, but I said, what the hell, I’ll keep my head down for a little bit and maybe save a little. Gunnedah is a small town, good bit of mining, so probably higher men to women ratio, a few pubs etc. All, in all, a nice town.
I was quite happy in my own little room, double bed, little sink – quite different from the hostel life! So, one day in my room I was listening to my ipod when the infamous ‘Bug-a-Boo’ by Destiny’s Child came on. Compelled by the rhythm, I of course, burst it out with all the energy I could possibly muster from within, in the privacy of my own room. Listened to a few more of Destiny’s Child’s ‘classics’, and with all the vigour and violence of any Beyonce-influenced-gobshite, gave it all I had.
Not so long later, I was lying on my bed, sending a few messages, when I got up to get changed. Now, all the while I could hear some voices but paid no heed to it. My boss, who has just turned 66, was giving out to them for drinking on the balcony area.
Next moment, I heard a knock on the door – ‘One Second!’ and I put my tshirt back on. My boss was standing there and kindly explained to me that I had an audience looking in the window as I was about to get undressed.
Oh jesus.
‘Right.’
He laughed, I didn’t. First thing I thought – did they also see my Beyonce inspired dance show. Awh lads, the mortification. I struggled to fall asleep that night I was so embarrassed thinking about it.
Moral of the story. Next time ya decide that the rhythm has taken hold. Stop. Check to see if there’s any miners/road workers sitting outside your window and for the love of god, always, CLOSE YOUR CURTAINS!!
I’m an idiot. Hopefully somebody else might learn from my mistakes – if anyone wants me, I’ll be hiding in my room dancing to’80s/’90s power-ballads in secrecy, over and out.
Anyway, my hostel was a story unto itself – I couldn’t quite place if it reminded me more of ‘This is England’ or ‘The Snapper’ but, let me tell you, it was old school. Definitely a bit dingy, kind of cosy in a run-down way, if ya get me? It was a grand place, met some nice people, lived off the free jumbo packet of weetabix in the ‘Free Food Box’ for a few days and sure I was grand! I had been looking up jobs, anything at all on Gumtree and luckily I got a few hours in this cafe in Fitzroy (great place!!! – grungy, alternative, lots of ‘health’ food, and just a nice hint of pretension) which kept me ticking over but it wasn’t enough really. So anyway, I got a call from the very lovely Kim, who offered me a job up in Gunnedah.
Now, for those of you who are not familiar with Gunnedah, NSW, like nearly everyone, Gunnedah is about 6 hours inland (by train) from Sydney. It took me about 19hours (approx. 1100km) to get there from Melbourne, but I said, what the hell, I’ll keep my head down for a little bit and maybe save a little. Gunnedah is a small town, good bit of mining, so probably higher men to women ratio, a few pubs etc. All, in all, a nice town.
I was quite happy in my own little room, double bed, little sink – quite different from the hostel life! So, one day in my room I was listening to my ipod when the infamous ‘Bug-a-Boo’ by Destiny’s Child came on. Compelled by the rhythm, I of course, burst it out with all the energy I could possibly muster from within, in the privacy of my own room. Listened to a few more of Destiny’s Child’s ‘classics’, and with all the vigour and violence of any Beyonce-influenced-gobshite, gave it all I had.
Not so long later, I was lying on my bed, sending a few messages, when I got up to get changed. Now, all the while I could hear some voices but paid no heed to it. My boss, who has just turned 66, was giving out to them for drinking on the balcony area.
Next moment, I heard a knock on the door – ‘One Second!’ and I put my tshirt back on. My boss was standing there and kindly explained to me that I had an audience looking in the window as I was about to get undressed.
Oh jesus.
‘Right.’
He laughed, I didn’t. First thing I thought – did they also see my Beyonce inspired dance show. Awh lads, the mortification. I struggled to fall asleep that night I was so embarrassed thinking about it.
Moral of the story. Next time ya decide that the rhythm has taken hold. Stop. Check to see if there’s any miners/road workers sitting outside your window and for the love of god, always, CLOSE YOUR CURTAINS!!
I’m an idiot. Hopefully somebody else might learn from my mistakes – if anyone wants me, I’ll be hiding in my room dancing to’80s/’90s power-ballads in secrecy, over and out.
Friday 11 April 2014
One good decision.
Just to provide a bit of a context, I had been away from home for about 10 months at this stage and I had been living in the amazing, Byron Bay, NSW, for about 2 or 3 months. Adored the place and the people of course, the parties, the beaches, the lighthouse, even loved my jobs (two part time, one as a 'Falafel girl', basically just giving people free falafels (sure who doesn't love free food), and the other as a cleaner with a bit of reception work at a Guesthouse - I was having a great time altogether sure!
So one day, I decided to do the sensible thing and gather up all the various bits of information I needed to lodge my tax return (It had been a few months in the waiting, shall I put it that way!). Quite happy with myself and determined to get this done, I was walking down the road to get to an internet cafe to go about my business when in the distance I could see this small group, all dressed-up. They were dressed up like fairies, jumping about and generally having a gay oul' time. I thought to myself, "You wouldn't need to pay me to do that!!" and as I approached, unexpectedly enough (but not altogether shocking - it was Byron like) I got the opportunity to do so! Without hesitation, the taxes and good intentions were cast aside with an exclaimation of, " Ehhhh yeah!!! Where are the wings?!!".
Shelley, who is designer and part owner of Fairylove (the beautiful costumes are well worth checking out!!), was trying to organise a 'fairyraid' flash mob to raise awareness for her good cause. She was (and still is, to the best of my knowledge?!) raising money to bring workshops to Aboriginal children and generally spread a bit of joy!
So we spent a while that day recruiting a few more fairies (you can thank me for the half naked German lads, mwaahaha! Like a predator - only joking! =))and going around to shops to raise some money and awareness. Dancing was done, lots of laughter, a few bewildered bystanders and glitter wishes were spread!
At the end of the day, Shelley suggested that if I wanted to go to the Woodford Festival to work for her stall she would pay for the ticket.
Now, I was very happy where I was and I didn't want to just up and leave work - both bosses had been sooo good to me. I mean hey, I know I made giving out free food look like a skilful job, but I was sure they'd find a replacement, somehow... :P :P But it was the job at the Guesthouse I felt badly about because my boss had been good to me and she had just left to go overseas for a while! So I didn't really know what to do and I didn't have much time to decide.
On top of that, I had just bought myself a little cheap tent, moved to a campsite hostel WHEN my boss' friend (who had also been very kind to me) asked me if I would like to housesit her MINTTTT house for seven weeks while she was away. I agreed, 'cause eh, it was like a mansion to me, it was so beautiful - balcony overlooking the beach and everything!!
So yeah, I had a lot of really good offers going at that time, and I knew I was really lucky but I was still unsure what to do (indecisive Libran - it's a curse!!).
Anyway, after a chat with an absolutely deadly couple who told me that Woodford would be a once in a lifetime opportunity for me and that it would be so amazing - I decided to go for it!
That, for me, also marked the end of my time in Byron Bay.
But anyway.... The Woodford 2014 week holds it's own stories - more than I'd ever be able to adequately describe, but, I'll give some of them a go in the next few posts!
As it turned out, that couple couldn't have been more right, it was one of the most utterly amazing, fun, inspiring and happy weeks of my life!! Talk about a great start to 2014!! :)
Ultimately, one good decision, saying Yes, to going up to this festival, started me off on quite the little adventure! I could have done the safe thing but, instead I gave up the two jobs, the beautiful home, the sense of being comfortable in a place where I was surrounded by friends and generally brilliant folk.... to go be a fairy at a festival and live in a tent! And I'm grand for it too!
Now, here's a few pictures of the fairyraid to cap it off! :)
Tulip the Cat.
There once was a brat of a cat, named Tulip. In a long tradition of Tabby cats, she was going to be a welcome new addition to the family. Or so we thought.
When we collected Tulip, she was all small and furry and timid enough... Again, or so we thought.
We soon realised that this was a feline with an edge!! Aggressive and not afraid to lash out. For a bit of peace in the evening, we left her, with her bed and food bowls, in the utility room. Just to avoid the kamikaze surprise attacks - she could appear at anytime - any place - claws flexed to the last!! However, this was only a temporary solution as the bin and fridge were in the utility room - the quick dash in and out of the utility room was always anticipated in fear. Occasionally, we just went without, to avoid, what could only be described as, the mission to the fridge. The fridge was eventually moved into the kitchen.
Such was the issue, that my poor Mother, frustrated and made a 'prisoner' of a kitten, in her own home, played around with different solutions, such as making Tulip an 'outdoor' cat. Love and affection only ever worked momentarily, one moment she would happily play - next, the switch would flip, and so would she! She would even attempt to bite your face if you left it open, anything was fair game to this cat!! I began to think she had separation anxiety issues or something, not even the pets could be normal in my family!!
After some while, a noticeable calm seemed to come about. No doubt, Tulip, still had her moments, but not as often or as violent! Something, seemingly incidental, had occurred in that time, Mam had brought down an old chair to the kitchen, she wanted the seat-cushion to be fixed. We laughed, but, it really did seem to us, that this chair had somehow pacified the crazy-divil. It was her own little territory. All this time, we thought she'd wanted love, all she'd wanted was a feckin' chair!!
A short while later, the calm was broken. We were confused, when one of us noticed that the chair was missing! As it turned out, Grandad had taken it to fix it up. With a conviction I don't hear on a day-to-day basis in my Mother's voice she stated that we MUST get that chair back, at once! Lo and behold, the situation returned to peace.
It's amazing what difference the little things in life make.
Tulip, once erratic and relately dangerous (for a small kitten), changed overnight, because she claimed her own chair.
Now, long before, it became 'fashionable' to be obsessed with cats, I most certainly was. I had cats before I had friends like. Oh god, I think that actually might be true..Jaysus!! :P I just love 'em! Anyway, that is all for now, I'll leave this on a note looking towards my probable future, as Eleanor Abernathy - Simpsons Crazy Cat Lady.
G'luuuuuck!! =)
I'd just like to add my Mother's reaction to this post - "Ha I read your blog on Tulip, brings shivers to my spine remembering those early days. You might add how I thought she was a h block reincarnate , what with her predilection of smearing her poo on the kitchen wall."
Tough times!
When we collected Tulip, she was all small and furry and timid enough... Again, or so we thought.
We soon realised that this was a feline with an edge!! Aggressive and not afraid to lash out. For a bit of peace in the evening, we left her, with her bed and food bowls, in the utility room. Just to avoid the kamikaze surprise attacks - she could appear at anytime - any place - claws flexed to the last!! However, this was only a temporary solution as the bin and fridge were in the utility room - the quick dash in and out of the utility room was always anticipated in fear. Occasionally, we just went without, to avoid, what could only be described as, the mission to the fridge. The fridge was eventually moved into the kitchen.
Such was the issue, that my poor Mother, frustrated and made a 'prisoner' of a kitten, in her own home, played around with different solutions, such as making Tulip an 'outdoor' cat. Love and affection only ever worked momentarily, one moment she would happily play - next, the switch would flip, and so would she! She would even attempt to bite your face if you left it open, anything was fair game to this cat!! I began to think she had separation anxiety issues or something, not even the pets could be normal in my family!!
After some while, a noticeable calm seemed to come about. No doubt, Tulip, still had her moments, but not as often or as violent! Something, seemingly incidental, had occurred in that time, Mam had brought down an old chair to the kitchen, she wanted the seat-cushion to be fixed. We laughed, but, it really did seem to us, that this chair had somehow pacified the crazy-divil. It was her own little territory. All this time, we thought she'd wanted love, all she'd wanted was a feckin' chair!!
A short while later, the calm was broken. We were confused, when one of us noticed that the chair was missing! As it turned out, Grandad had taken it to fix it up. With a conviction I don't hear on a day-to-day basis in my Mother's voice she stated that we MUST get that chair back, at once! Lo and behold, the situation returned to peace.
It's amazing what difference the little things in life make.
Tulip, once erratic and relately dangerous (for a small kitten), changed overnight, because she claimed her own chair.
Now, long before, it became 'fashionable' to be obsessed with cats, I most certainly was. I had cats before I had friends like. Oh god, I think that actually might be true..Jaysus!! :P I just love 'em! Anyway, that is all for now, I'll leave this on a note looking towards my probable future, as Eleanor Abernathy - Simpsons Crazy Cat Lady.
G'luuuuuck!! =)
I'd just like to add my Mother's reaction to this post - "Ha I read your blog on Tulip, brings shivers to my spine remembering those early days. You might add how I thought she was a h block reincarnate , what with her predilection of smearing her poo on the kitchen wall."
Tough times!
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