Taff Down Under 22

So lets start issue 22 off with some good news.

As you may remember, the last bit of the previous long boring letter told the sad tale of how LeeAnne had broken her jaw by fainting at the supermarket?

For the last few weeks the poor bugger has had her jaws wired together. The first three of these weeks they were wired shut, drinking was only possible by sucking up through a straw in the side of her mouth. Sleeping was virtually impossible due to the pain, and getting sufficient calories was a nightmare. She existed for those first three weeks on a diet of high protein bodybuilder drinks and painkillers.

After three weeks though they snipped the wires keeping her jaw firmly clamped, and put in high tensile elastic bands. At least with these LeeAnne could get a straw in the front of her mouth, and eat some mushy grub. So the diet then changed to soups, mashed spud, mushy peas, porridge and soft white toast. Though not all for the same meal.

No offence to all those of you who sent us soup recipes, but this one, from a young lady we know though a online forum, known only to us as Zaz, was the scrummiest;

Cream of Jalapeño Soup

Ingredients:

1 1/2 tbsp unsalted butter

5-6 Jalapeño Chiles, stems and seeds removed

3/4 cup finely chopped red onion

3 cloves garlic

1 avocado

2 cups diced tomatoes

8 cups heavy cream

1 bunch cilantro, stems removed leaves chopped

Kosher salt to taste

Fresh ground pepper to taste

Instructions:

Mince Jalapeños and set aside. In a large, heavy saucepan, heat butter over medium heat. Add jalapeños, onions and garlic and sauté until vegetables are soft. Stir mixture for even cooking. Remove pan from heat and stir in avocados, tomatoes and cream. Lower the temperature and return pan to heat, stirring constantly to prevent cream form breaking or separating. Bring soup slowly back to simmer and cook about 30 minutes to reduce it by one-third and blend flavors. Stir occasionally to prevent-sticking and scorching. Season with salt and pepper. Just before serving, stir chopped cilantro leaves into the soup, reserving some for garnish. Ladle soup into bowls and garnish with remaining cilantro.

Next time I do it, I'm doubling the jalepenos though, this version was too tame.

LeeAnne had been told that the wires would be due out in five weeks, so with the fifth week approaching we were looking out for the hospital letter. In the bloody fifth week it arrived. LeeAnne hurriedly opened it to find out her appointment was in….. two weeks time .. Bastards, that’s so unfair.

Believe me those two weeks dragged. Dragged badly.

But Thursday just gone the big day finally arrived, and she went into hospital to have herself unwired.

Here she is in her own words….

I can smile. I can smile. I can smile!

Whoo-hoo!

Quote

It feels so empty in my mouth now. I don't have too much pain, which is a change from the way living had been for the past 7 weeks and 3 days. I didn't realise how fucking horrible those arch bars were until they came off.

I was almost dancing in the Recovery room.

I have one quite wonky looking tooth after everything came off. But at least it stayed in my head. I also have a lot of gum damage and wounds from the wires to heal. But that is simple.

I get to see my dentist on Monday for a thorough clean and to see the damage I have done. I know I have sheered the top of one of my molars off. So he will have fun reconstructing that. I'll see if he can do something about this crooked bottom tooth as well. But hell, if I have to live with a slightly crooked tooth, as opposed to having to wear a plate with a false tooth, I know which option I'd prefer.

 

 

Great to see her smile again. So that night we celebrated. Don’t ask.

Thanks are due to all of you who send cards, e-mails, and soup recipes. They were all very much appreciated.

 

 

 

So now onto other things.

Bethy hit the grand old age of nine the other day. She’s only nine but will soon be looking down on her mum, as she’s growing at a hell of a rate. LeeAnne isn’t looking forward to the day she gets looked down on by her kid.

Anyway, at work LeeAnne had been given a big glass chemical tank, the sort used by mad scientists in horror film laboratories for developing strange new creatures. So a cunning plan was hatched to give Bethy exactly what LeeAnne wanted for her birthday.

On the morning of the big day, Bethy awoke to find a huge batch of small presents, and one big one, all wrapped in birthday paper. She dutifully unwrapped the presents, looking more and more puzzled by each one. The Ph value testing kit, the water filter, the bag of shiny gravel, all were opened, and being a good kid, she tried to look grateful for each of them. It wasn’t until she opened the last of the small presents that she actually clicked, it being a book on fish care was too big a hint to miss I suppose.

So we set it up, Christ there’s some buggering about to do with these bloody things now. It’s no longer a case of lobbing a couple of goldfish in a bowl of tap water, oh bloody no. You have to balance the Ph, put a salt solution in, sterilise all the other bits, and this was before we even bought any fish to go in it.

The next day while I was off at work, they went off and bought three multi coloured goldfish, and two small tiger fish. So far, believe it or not, we’ve not had any floaters.

The other thing I find hard to believe is that tiger, the killer cat, hasn’t shown the slightest interest in them. We were convinced he’d find a way to get the glass lid off the tank, and eat them as a late night snack. But so far they are safe.

For Bethy’s birthday her dad very kindly bought us, I mean her, a Playstation 2. I’m not really into those games, but it does have another bonus; you can play DVD’s on them. Neat. In fact I’m off to our favourite "Adult" shop "Adam and Eve" tonight to see what art films they have on DVD there.

This year we didn’t throw a party for Bethy, last years was traumatic enough, I’m still finding jelly down the back of the sofa. This year we promissed her a trip to the coast with her best mate. Bethy’s best mate lives in the next street and her name is Hatch Mate. She’s the proud owner of the most gingery hair and freckly face I’ve ever seen, she’s got a luminous orange head in fact. But she’s a sweet enough kid.

 

 

So on Friday the 12th. we set off for the coast, we’d chosen this weekend as the Monday was a bank holiday. Although they don’t have bank holidays over here and people look stupid at me whenever I use the term. People look stupid at me whatever I say, so sod it, I say bank holiday a lot. Makes conversations a bit interesting; "How are you today Gary, feeling a bit bank holiday?"

Anyway, we set off with a boot full of essentials for three girls to have two and a half days away, and me with a change of underwear in my pocket. The things we took were slightly mad. We took several litres of vino, her playstation and a few DVDs of the sort that people with brain damage enjoy, several boogie boards, two big homemade cakes and Bethy’s popcorn making machine. Essential, how can you have a weekend away without freshly cooked popcorn?

We were due to travel down in a car that Bethy’s Dad was going to lend us, a big estate wagon. Unfortunately when he was driving home from work a few days before we were due to go, someone from the Euthanasia society of Oz pulled out right in front of him. The cars were both spun off the road, and his was written off totally. Fortunatly he wasn’t hurt, and may even make a few bob on the insurance.

So we borrowed the mother in laws car. I love driving it, hate the car itself, but love driving it as it’s a lot faster than our old wreck. Bethy had kindly brought her "Harry Potter" cd’s, so all the way there and back we had the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry reading to us. No chance of us running out of entertainment with these, 24 one hour CD’s makes for a lot of travel listening.

Funnily enough I really enjoyed listening to them, so much so that I decided to read the books when I got back. I did try, but somehow they had turned into kids stuff while I wasn’t looking.

So we set off. We decided to stop off at Cooma.

 

 

We sent the girls off to play in the park, while we got grub in. LeeAnne’s jaws were still wired and elastic banded at this point, so she could only eat skinny chips. The kids wanted fish and chips, and I knew what I wanted; a roast spud burger!

I’d had one of these when me and Chas stopped here on our way to the mountains, and they are fab. In a huge floury bap you get lettuce, tomato, beetroot, Tai leaves, raw onion, salad dressing, chilli sauce, fried egg and roast spuds, delish!

We got the grub, and went off to the park to feed the brats. We got there to find them up on the open air stage, singing and dancing "Heard it through the grapevine", (the Kellogs’ version, not Marvyn Gaye’s,) much to the amusement of the passers by that had stopped to watch. They got a good round of applause when they finished too.

We got to the coast after an amazing drive in the dark up one side and down the other of the "Great Dividing Range". Wow, was it bloody hairy driving or what? LeeAnne was threatening to grab hold of my bollocks to use to use as a brake handle one point. No trust in a mans ability to drive at high speeds, in the dark, down steep winding hills, in foggy conditions, some women, have they?

Anyway we eventually got to where we were staying, safe and in one piece; And very nice it was too. We unloaded the car, I unpocketed my spare skids, and Bethy made some popcorn.

Pretty soon the girls were in bed, and, after a vat of wine, we crashed out too.

Before I go onto the next day, I’d like to backtrack a bit. Remember I said I was off to buy some art DVD’s from "Adam and Eve". Well I did just that, last night after work. The thing was, this was the first time since I’d been here that I’d visited such a store on my own. I was full of confidence on the drive there, in fact it wasn’t until I pulled up outside that I stared getting nervous. "But", I said to myself, applying my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy training, "you’ve been in here before, you know what you want, and there’s even a café in there it’s so laid back. So get a grip on yourself you soft welsh twat."

Actually "getting a grip on myself" and "soft Welsh twat", probably wasn’t the best use of self-talk CBT I could have done at that point.

Anyway, I went in there and of course the first thing I see is there’s a ravishing Asian bird behind the counter. Again. The next thing, and I know what you’re all going to think this says about me, I wondered happily and unknowingly into the gay section. There I met two very nice boys who stopped bickering with each other and smiled sweetly at me. I smiled back, and exited backwards, neatly bumping into a large man with a walrus moustache, clothed entirely in leather.

So there I am wondering about trying to find something that looks good, and is cheap. Abandoning this after all of ten seconds, I settled for looking for something that looked good. Then "Mr & Mrs We don’t care what you think," appeared, and seemed to be everywhere else in the shop I went. These people are standard fittings in all porn shops, I think the place employs them. They are normally a portly couple in their late forties, who wonder about picking up dildo’s, DVD’s, lubricants etc, and asking each other questions in loud stage whispers. "What you think of this one Doris, it’s got four speeds and a rotating head on it?" " It’s not big enough Albert, and I prefer one with the rear attachments, you know that." And things like; "Have we seen Lesbian Back Door Angels love?" "Yes we have dear, it was a bit disappointing, but it did have that nice watersports scene in it.’

Anyway, I eventually got a couple of interesting DVD’s, and made it to the counter. This time, and for the first time ever, the pretty Asian girl at the counter didn’t hold up my purchases and shout to someone at the far end of the shop; "Is the DVD called "Round the World Gang Bangs" on offer this month?"

I didn’t stop for a coffee though. That’s my challenge for next time.

 

 

Back to the holiday then. The next day was gloriously sunny. The girls took themselves to the beach and we had a brew a ciggy and sat and read. We wandered down to the beach after a while. The girls were happily playing in the shallows, so we strolled off down the beach and collected some shells and other stuff for the fish tank at home.

We wondered back occasionally lolling about occasionally to soak up the sun. It’s autumn here now so the weather is only in the high 20’s. We checked the girls were ok, and gave them the usual stern warnings about not leaving the patrolled area, not going in the sea out of their depth, and not eating anything washed up by the tide. We strolled onto the rocky promontory at the end of the beach. The views from here were fantastic, long beaches and bright red cliffs as far as the eye could see.

We strolled back to the cabin via a long grassy slope. A bit of a way along here we saw what looked like a discarded bicycle tyre. It moved. Ah, another snake, must get some pictures of this! It was about a metre and a half long, black on the upper body, and copper red on its belly. I got a few good shots of it, including my shadow in a couple to give a sense of scale. LeeAnne stood back and yelled warnings at me. It eventually slithered off up towards some beach cabins, so we strolled home.

Of course what we should have been doing at this point was running about like headless chickens warning everybody for miles around that there was in the area:

Red-bellied black snake (Pseudechis porphyriacus)

(Photo P.Mirtschin, Venom Supplies)

Also called the common black snake. Distributed down the east coast of Australia, not including Tasmania, and slightly into South Australia. The red-bellied black snake prefers swampy, moist areas around creeks, rivers and lakes. They prey on rats, mice, frogs, lizards and birds, as well as fish and eels, as they are good swimmers. They also eat other snakes, including those of their own species. Red-bellied black snakes are mostly active during the day, and are not particularly aggressive.. When threatened, they will flatten their bodies and hiss loudly, but will usually attempt to escape if possible.

Red-bellied black snakes are usually black or dark grey in colour, with red or orange flanks.

The average length is 1.25m, and the maximum recorded length is 2.5m. The young, numbering from 12-20, are born alive. The red-bellied black snake, while still dangerous, is somewhat less venomous than many other Australian snakes. Average venom yield is around 37mg, and the maximum recorded is 94mg. Its bite may cause coagulopathy, neurotoxicity and myolysis. No deaths have been confirmed in adults, although children have died after bites by this snake.

Could any other nation have been so literal in their naming of animals I ask you once more? A "red bellied black snake?" I think not!

Ah well, live and learn, in this instance at least we lived.

Another interruption in the narrative.

Tonight I was walking the stupid dog in the local bushland, when I came across a Ranger’s van with all his lights flashing. Locking the mutt in the car I went across to see what was up. A smartly dressed Ranger was prodding something with a long, very long, pole. "What’s up mate?" I asked, "injured brown snake" he said, causing me to leap backwards about 12 foot. He then proceeded to give me a very informative talk on brown snakes.

What to do if you see one: run away as fast as you can.

What to do if you’re cornered by one : shit yourself.

What to do if you’re bitten by one: die.

Actually it was a lot more detailed and factual than that, but I think I’ve given you the essentials.

 

Back to the tale.

So that night we went into the local town as the girls wanted to eat Italian. (Sophisticated little shites aren’t they?) We found a place on the waterfront, and ordered. Bethy had lasagne, Hatch Mate had spag boll, and me and LeeAnne had a pizza each. Very nice grub it was too, but one of the pizzas had a luminous, radioactive looking, green stuff on it, that none of us could identify. It looked like it had spilt onto the food from a lava lamp. Still tasted fine, and as of yet I haven’t grown an extra head, so who gives a fuck?

That night we watched "The three Amigos" on DVD, and I didn’t slit my wrists, came close though.

 

The next day we visited "Magic Mountain."

It was a small amusement park, with a few fun rides, the toboggan sled run being particularly exciting. This was a steel track down the whole side of the hill, with banked curves every so often. You ride down on a sled with a sodding great break handle on it. I managed to get the guys running it to give me extra leeway on my start, to prevent me running into the person in front of me. On my last run I had the sled banked so far over on the corners I came back with grass in my teeth. I never did make it to the end without using the brakes though. Next time, next time…

The girls had a great time there, they spent hours on the water slides, which was great for us as they had a long walk back to the top of them. This had two major bonuses, one it knackered them out for the evening, two it meant we could sit and read books and drink tea.

We also had a race on the go-karts there. Mine chugged and chuffed and seemed like it was about to give its final phut and die. I was overtaken by nearly everybody on the track. If you’ve ever been in a car with me you know what a rare phenomena me getting overtaken is. Afterwards I sulked for a whole hour until LeeAnne bought me an ice cream.

We got back to the cabin and the girls went off to the pool. So we sat and read books and drank more tea. I got through three books in the weekend. After a sunset stroll along the beach we got them fed, and like good little fucked people they crashed out. Great, adult time.

The next day we threw a load of stale bread and left over fruit outside the cabin, and attracted a flock of rainbow parakeets. These are cheeky, aggressive, but very beautiful little parrots. They are so cocky that in most parts of the coast they become hand tame, and people take them as wild pets.

We eventually got the car packed up, isn’t it weird how your belongings multiply while you are on holiday? We set off for the trip back.

 

Passing through bega, the local cheese producing centre, Bethy shouted "Bats!!"

What the hell is she on about thinks me? So I wheeled the car around and there in the trees of the village park were hundereds of huge fruit bats, looking like extras from a Bela Lugosi film. Marvelous looking creatures very pretty, it’s shame they have such bad press, a bit like me really. Or not.

We drove through the great divinding range. It’s hell of a spectacular place, just west of where we went skiing last year. The mountains are wonderful, we hope to end up living somewhere close to them in the future.

We stopped off at Cooma for lunch. Sent the girls off to the park, and went to our favourite café to grab grub. When we got to the park instead of the girls entertaining the populace, there was a brass band there entertaining a park full of old bidddies having an outing. Hundreds of the buggers stuffing their faces at tressle tables.

Now I don’t know about you, but for me, enjoying brass band music would be the first sign of senility. When I’m old and dodery I don’t want some bunch of gits playing bad, and this bunch were bloody awful, brass band music at me. I want three old gits banging out Motorheads greatest hits, or a DJ spinning "VNV Nation’’s, full on, 170 bpm, Techno Goth. Oh and I’d like lots of interesting drugs to take as well please.

We got home, knackered and happy, and got shot of Hatch Mate. I have to say this though, taking her with us was a majorly good move. Kids entertain themselves. Good, fuck off and get on with it then.

I’ve started a project. It’s very boring so skip this bit. One of the places I regularly walk the stupid dog is a lovely little hill. It’s just two minutes drive from the house, and called Mount Painter. I’ve started taking pictures whenever I go up there. I’m trying to caputure all the different changes the seasons bring. It’s also home to a mob of Roos, so they feature heavily. It’s a nice walk, and trying to capture it differently each time makes for a more interesting evening. Beats trying to lose the dog anyway.

Mark Nicol, who some of you know and loathe, gave me a very detailed critique of not only the location, but also my photography. So I told him to fuck off. I mean would you take artistic advice from a man with a fucking plastic bead curtain in his house?

I’ve also got into stitching photos together using MGI photosuite. One of the Painter ones is actually 8 pictures together. Four on the top, four on the botttom. Works great, like having the mother of all wide angle lenses.

Thanks to my mate Paul, for his advice and help, doing these.

 

Having a digital camera is wonderful though. No worrying about film and developing costs, just fire away and delete the crap ones (99%). I’ve got a memory card for mine that holds 80+ shots, I’m thinking of getting another so I can do up to 160.

 

 

Told you it was boring didn’t I?

 

Someone wrote to me the other day saying; "Stop sending pictures with the fucking sun in them!" Forgot that’s a rare phenomena in the UK.

The new job is going well. I work 12.30-9.00 pm weekdays, and 9.00- 5.00 pm on weekends. The shifts are all over the place,I’m currently in the middle of a 8 day stretch, which may end up a 12 day stretch if things go tits up.

There’s three of us in the team, four if you count the "team leader" who works 9.00 – 5.00 weekdays. He writes the rota, you guessed that didn’t you?

The other guys are Gary, a shit hot psych nurse, and Jackie a psychologist. We don’t hold that against her though.

The clients are all young people experiencing first onset psychosis. They are all pretty bonkers, and we go in and do highly intensive treatments. Or at least that’s the plan, most of the time they are either off on another planet, or hiding in cupboards in case the men in suits come and suck their brains out. "The Matrix" films have a lot to answer for.

The shifts are working out better than me and LeeAnne expected though, and I do get to spend time with Bethy, so all in all it’s not too bad. The extra money I get, for shifts and weekend work, we are putting aside to pay for a holiday in the UK early next year. That’s plenty enough warning for you, start thinking about moving house now.

I’m doing an evening course in "Pro Tools" a music sequencing and mastering software. It’s going to mean that I will be remastering all my tracks, so the next CD will be about six months later now. Bet you’re all in tears about that?

This month, and for the next six consecutive months, I’ve got short stories published in the Ozzie flying magazine. The editor Rick is giving me great feedback on them, and is very encouraging. He wants me to do a whole years worth, here you go;

Hi Taff,

Keep them coming This'll be the year of Taff. I always try to avoid putting in any more than one article by a given author per issue, but I'd be more than happy to see one of your articles in each issue this year if you'd like? We've got one of your stories for the May issue, and now one for the June issue, so that leaves six issues for the rest of year. Totally up to you. If you keep them coming, I'll happily keep putting them in one issue at a time!

Don’t bother asking me to mail you them, they all revolve around flying, and are of absolutely no interest to anyone who’s not into paragliding / hangliding.