skulking ground

Follow our family of Cunning(ham) Foxes on our turbulent travels around Oz


2 Comments

How things change

We moved from Coolbellup,  spent some time at a Caravan park on the beach with a friend from Sydney. Ten days of seaside relaxation, living back in the van, cooking in the camp kitchen, commuting to work by bus. Everyone thinks we’re gypsies, I like that we are. Now we’re living at the Great Danes house. Residing in the West wing of Fort Ives for a month or so, driving a Mitsubishi Triton and splitting ourselves between 2 King size beds. It’s luxury. It’s air-con. It’s 10 minutes from work, to the beach and Freo. It’s  great to have rich friends.

Another day, another beach

Another day, another beach

Rats can tread water for 3 days straight. They used the duck bath as a lap pool and ate the insides out of tomatoes a day before ripe. We went back to Coolbellup for a visit, had a meal with the people whose lives we borrowed for a month. We would’ve had a catch up sooner only Oscar broke down on the roundabout outside the international airport after picking the tired buggers up. We’d only just gotten past the first sentence of niceties when rrrrr… engines fail, the old pike puttered to a stop. The guys caught a cab home while me and Bodes waited for the Road Side Assist. Alls well on the van front and after about 4 weeks after that incident we finally finished that conversation. Turns out their trip was good. Their plants and animals are still alive and Jacob let slip that their house is haunted. It was the first I knew too.

It’s a good morning when your not hung over. The cocks have crowed their war cries for another year leaving empty buckets of fried chicken in the gutters of their throbbing heads. Aussie. Boom. Aussie. Boom. Aussie. Boom. We walked the dog, threw a ball back and forth in a park while drunk drivers skidded round street bends and bumped over roundabouts. It was a quiet night at home, in someone else’s home, more like a mansion, cold granite  pillars and tiled floors sandwiched between Scottish accents that sang the Men at Work anthem and played drinking games where  you spit in each others faces. We watched a movie, some bodies on the screen, mouths moving, saying something, I didn’t care what, our bodies Sunday night tangled on the couch. I was happy. Oh, how things change.

Advertisements