Just a few more shots. I’ve got anything you have sent before today which is Tuesday March 27th. I’m 66 in four days. Please send money. PO Box 82, Dunwich, 4183. It’ll be forwarded to the secret desert hideaway. In lieu of money your love will be fine. Yeeurrgh… I just asked for a stronger coffee and it is like piss. Watery, foamy and almost entirely unlike any drink called coffee. (You see how I suffer?) There is one of those classic country “characters” behind the coffee shop counter. She is loud, bordering on comically rude and her view is clearly that, if you’re on her patch, you can like it or f##k off 500k down the road to the next coffee shop. Good on her. Bend the knee to no man!
I’ve yet to shop, wash the clothes or check my bank details. (I should be $500 less poor. Argh… can’t stand it. I’ll look now. Oooh… this is sinister. I’ve copped a $900 payout from shed rental. They had been holding it back to pressure me. F##k that… I’m free as a bird… anyone want to come to Hawaii? Yeah, AND me $500 was there to boot. I met an ex-dogger on the pier fishing. He was called Dick which was a bit unfortunate as he told me he’s had his prostate excised and that part of the anatomy indicated by his given name no long functions like a finger… more like a tassel or a hose. But he did not care. On the VietNam vets’ Pension (about $500 a week) his advice, kindly meant and sincere was… f##k hassling for a settlement. Come out and live in the Bush. I could not discern any flaw in the argument. You may know but in case not (and this is the second “Dogger” I have met in 40 years) but a dogger receives money from the Government for killing feral animal’s, originally this was confined to Dingoes but undoubtedly has included rabbits and donkeys, possibly feral camels and so on. He drove a hard-core 4WD with a motorbike on a trailer that he uses to put himself one step further beyond the Madding Crowd. Looking for pristine fishing and silent mornings.
Big surf days the last few days but the, harrumph, “Locals” occupy a sort of blocking scrum on the outside peak. I was a bit spoiled by having a 3 hours surf with 2 out a short while ago at Caves, “The Best Wave in the World”. The locals are all over 50. They communicate with each other rather like Gnu’s on the Seringeti. A series of information-void precedence-establishing series of coded baahs, “Eeeeieh”s, Gnoinks, Aaay’s and the occasional false-information bleat such as, “Collingwood had the finals wrapped up eeehhh?” Then this is followed by instructions to a sub-dominant surfer to go. They know the wave very well and it takes some knowing. They all, without exception, surf less well that this 66 year old and the only way I have been able to insinuate myself between the Alpha Oinks is to take the ones they have clearly missed. This often means a TOAD – “Take-off and die”. To pull back is an absolute death sentence if you want another wave on that day. I have been extraordinarily fortunate and have pulled off at least 3 impossible take-offs which – given a month or two will work on their collective un-brain and elevate me to someone entitled to take a turn.
This is my first Ceduna Run. It’s a 100 mile round-trip and I have to do stuff now like washing, downloading weather maps and running errands for fellow campers. I should say that my companions there are a decent bunch and as diverse as it goes. Two final bits of news. We had a “Professional Muso” here – Davey. I went along to give him a little back up on guitar and then got hassled – after he had departed to another venue (back of hand to brow: My Public call for me…) I really am quite loathe to “perform”. But I did 2 songs and!!! wasn’t boo’ed off and – if anything was thrown at me, it missed. I was stoked as I have found guitar practice (and writing) difficult. This is all thanks to 2 cups of scum and a table and seat and sufficiently dark interior light to see MAC.
Expect to hear half way through April, Insha Allah. xxx