Very odd indeed!
Britain is famous for being a country of eccentrics, of oddballs, if you like. (I imagine that you’ve already guessed this from reading my blog.)
For the past thirty years, the Bookseller has awarded the Diagram Prize to the book with the oddest title. Online voters chose a cheesy title: The 2009-2014 World Outlook for 60-miligram Containers of Fromage Frais. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? The Fromage Frais book has been crowned Oddest Book Title of 2008. Actually, it seems to be a fairly topical book as it looks at the use of dairy packaging – which, after all, is not very environmentally-friendly. Still, it would be rather difficult to sell fromage frais in paper bags, I imagine.
The runner-up was the mystifyingly titled book: Baboon Metaphysics. Which just goes to show that if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys – or, at least, baboons.
So, how did it all start? Well, Bruce Robertson of the Diagram Group was really bored at the Frankfurt Book Fair back in 1978, so he started looking for weird and wonderful book titles as a way of passing the time enjoyably. The very first book to win the prize was called Proceedings of the Second International Workshop on Nude Mice. (I never realized that mice wore clothes, so this was quite an eye-opener!)
Not content with finding oddball titles every year, the Bookseller also set out to find the oddest title of the past thirty years! Not an easy task with so many to choose from. The Nude Mice book was a hot contender, but then People who Don’t Know They’re Dead led the polls for a full three weeks. Those naked mice were shredding their clothes in anger – well, they would have if they had had any.
Just as the voting was closing, a dark horse popped out from the woodwork (I do love mixing my metaphors!) and won the crown as the Oddest Book Title in the past thirty years. The winning title? Greek Rural Postmen and Their Cancellation Numbers! Apparently, it’s a comprehensive look at a sector of Greece’s postal routes. Might be worth investing in if you have insomnia, for example…
The winner of this Diagram of Diagrams also faced stiff opposition from Living with Crazy Buttocks (don’t we all?) and the 2007 winner, If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs.
The fact that Greek Rural Postmen won just goes to show that mail deliveries are far more important than mice, the dead and soft porn.
Well, as I said before, Britain is a nation of eccentrics!
Silly Saturday
Yeah, yeah… I know! I’m silly every day! But I feel extra silly today…
Sharp and witty political insight from Lady Fi – or totally inane and irrelevant? You decide!
Grin and bare it!
My sister on our frozen lake in Sweden - look at her bare feet!!!
As you know, my sister is here. What you may not know is that she is totally bonkers! (Well, it does run in the family…) When I asked her for an interview, she agreed to reveal a little known secret. So here it is: an exclusive interview. Never seen before (well, not on this blog, anyway).
You see, she is a member of a society. A bare society. One that encourages nudity. Of the feet. “Did you know that we are born with our own shoes? They’re water-proof and free with leathery soles!” That’s how my sister describes the joys of living barefoot. All the time. So keen is she that she is now a member of the Society for Barefoot Living.
So, how did it all start? Well, her husband started running without shoes on in order to cure his Achilles heel problems. This was last September. One sunny day, my sister wondered what it would feel like to walk on the streets and woods without her shoes on. She never looked back.
She loved the feel of crunchy twigs, springy moss, hot pavements, cool shop interiors, smooth floors, rain and cold snow under her feet. These days she drives barefoot, shops without her shoes on and walks barefoot as much as possible – or as much as her courage allows.
I wondered what the benefits are. “It’s healthy and a good way to exercise your feet. It takes ten years off your life.” When she first started barefooting (that’s a technical term), she wondered why her feet were bright pink. “Er… that’s your circulation,” her husband explained. Apparently, she hasn’t had circulation before, poor thing.
“My feet are tingly all over. It’s fun. You can feel everything!” And – here’s the clincher (well, apart from the looking younger bit. Barefooting is, at least, cheaper than Botox.) “I feel like a child again!”
And – if you think about it – most of us went barefoot as kids. I know we did – and the anklebiters refuse shoes and socks as soon as the weather allows. (I’ll let you into a little secret: I never ever wear shoes indoors.)
Do you remember the feel of sand between your toes, mud oozing over your feet or the freshly-scented feel of grass? Liberating. Carefree. The feel of childhood.
Go on – try it out! You know you want to…
Waffling on about spring
Today it is officially the first day of spring! The hens are laying eggs, the cows are giving milk and the flowers bloom like pretty balloons in the pastures. And hark – I can hear a choir of angels – or singing nuns – or … Wait! Back up… Because when I went out this morning, this is the scene that greeted me:
A glorious sun shining on the frozen lake so that it looked like a carpet of diamonds. Fresh snow and minus 13 C! Welcome to spring. By the way, did I mention that this is the first day of spring?
Some of you might know this day better as Lady Day or as the Feast of the Annunciation. Or to put it more simply, the Angel Gabriel told Mary that she was going to have a baby. And for some reason, the Swedes celebrate this day by eating waffles. A bit of googling told me that in medieval times, vendors used to sell waffles outside churches on special religious celebrations. In fact, they used to compete so fiercely about whose waffle was biggest that France was forced to instigate a ‘Waffle Law’ – a kind of restraining order that said waffle vendors had to remain six feet apart!
I can just imagine the French waffle vendors fighting – can’t you? Imagine all this with a French accent if you will…
“You are just a load of hot waffle, you leetle toad!”
“Your muther was an escargot and your father was a flaky croissant!”
“You mean, one of those croissants made wiz zee rich butter…”
“Yes. And with pastry so soft it melts in ze mouth. Oh, cabbages! We are supposed to be enemies…”
“Oh, yes! Sorry! You are just so full of crepe!”
And so on!
Now – where was I? Oh yes – trying to find a connection between the church and waffles. Just done that!
The other reason why Swedes eat waffles on 25 March is because it’s supposed to be the first day of spring. (Have I already mentioned this?) That’s right – hens lay eggs, cows give milk and those nuns are singing high up in the hills… Whatever! Anyway, eating heart-shaped waffles (for ALL waffles in Sweden are that shape) with cream and jam is definitely the first sign of spring. No matter what the weather is doing!
(My sister arrives from England this evening, so we have decided to eat the first sign of spring tomorrow instead… Oh – and if I don’t post quite so often this week, then blame it on my visitors. You know how demanding they can be – always wanting to eat food or talk or do something that can interfere with blogging…)
A satisfying and complete read
A couple of weeks ago, I finished reading a book that is probably one of the most satisfying and complete reads I’ve read in a long while. The book explores the implications of whom we choose to love, and looks at how different our lives can turn out, depending on the paths we choose for ourselves. I am, of course, referring to Lionel Shriver’s The Post-Birthday World. (She shot to fame with her book We Need to Talk About Kevin.)
The story weaves together two parallel universes, showing us the two different paths that our heroine takes depending on the decision she makes in the first chapter. The protagonist, Irina, is in a stable yet stodgy relationship. At the end of the first chapter, she is very tempted to kiss another man. In one story, she resists and stays with her long-time partner. In the other alternative, she kisses the man and this leads to a wild, tempestuous relationship.
After the first chapter, we have two chapter twos, two chapter threes and so on, as Shriver explores Irina’s two possible futures. The two men are polar opposites. Lawrence is stable, stuffy and a little staid while Ramsey is a famous snooker player who is jealous and unstable. Neither of them is perfect and Shriver manages to paint two complex portraits of these men and of Irina’s possible lives.
As Irina herself says, “The idea is you don’t have only one destiny . . . as if everything hinges on one decision. But whatever direction you go there are going to be upsides and downsides.”
The other underlying theme in the book is, believe it or not, snooker. Who knew that there was so much passion underneath the cool exteriors of those suited snooker players?
As you can see, I have already launched myself into my next book: The 19th Wife. It’s a fascinating look at plural marriage (polygamy) in the US, both in the past and present.
Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you had made a different decision somewhere in your past?
Ooh aye – life is grand
My OU-studying pal French Fancy recently wrote about why life is grand. And I thought it was such a good idea because it is all too easy to focus on the negative side of life. The media may thrive on doom and gloom but the rest of us don’t.
So, why is life grand?
1. It is getting light! I saw a pale pink sunset this morning at six o’clock when I got up. And it was still light at 6 pm when I came home from work one evening. Glorious!
2. Thank goodness for coffee and spicy Yogi tea! They do wonders when it comes to perking me up.
3. Talking of yogis – our very own cyber yogi Braja is doing much better. After complaining about the hospital food, they sent her home. Atta girl! Her husband has been moved out of Intensive Care and is also recovering slowly.
4. Sir Pe, my anklebiters and, of course, Oscar the dog – thanks for keeping me on my toes and making me laugh. (Oh yeah – and thanks for all the grey hairs too!)
5. My sister (Mother of the cousins) and her two kids are descending on us like a swarm of locusts visiting us and spreading joy and noise this week. Hurray! (OK – where are those ear plugs?)
6. Two squares of dark chocolate a day is a remedy for most ills.
So – what makes you smile?
Weekend visitor
We have a weekend visitor… so full of energy and mischief… not sure how I can cope!
Actually, we went out for a one and a half hour walk and Frodo tired himself out by running off into the woods. Ten minutes of blowing the whistle finally brought him back. Have you every noticed how a dog can pant and smile at the same time? That’s the look he gave me as he came racing out of the woods.
Oh – did I forget to tell you? Oscar (my dog) is Frodo’s dad. You can tell they are related by the luminous green eyes they both have…
Frodo (son) is lying down. Oscar (father) is sitting up.
On a banal housekeeping note: Google doesn’t like my cookies (seems that chocolate chip are not their favourites!) and thinks that I am trying to spam them or something. So, until my resident geek nerd in-house computer wizard has the time to look at Error 403 – and fix it, I cannot leave all you lovely people any comments. Please forgive me and just imagine me reading and leaving you all mental (in both senses of the word!) comments.
Taking the knight off
It’s frantic over here – what with ice shows twice a day (I think I’ve got frostbite from hanging around the ice hall too much!), trying to meet deadlines and another concert next week. The deadlines are mine – the other activities are those of the anklebiters, for as you know: I have no social life!
Hate to say it, but doing the laundry sounds relaxing at this point… Well, only if I can do it like this guy.
Cool interiors
Bindu at Transient Lives wondered what the inside of the igloo we built at the weekend looks like. So, I went outside with my camera and the dog at 6.30 this morning. Got down onto my hands and knees and shot this through the doorway…
As you can see, there is a patchwork of small holes now because the sun has been shining on the igloo during the day.
I then crawled through the door right inside the igloo. It was surprisingly warm – and light. The small window overlooks the frozen lake.
Enjoy the view!
Holding onto winter
While spring blossoms in people’s hopes, some of us are too busy holding onto winter. First, get a neighbour with a big spade and a special igloo-building bucket and then round up the kids on the street…
Work all afternoon with miniature-sized helpers… (Wear a helmet in case of falling ice bricks!)
Let the kids go in for tea, while the artistic neighbour with the big bucket and spade continues working until it is dark.
Get up early on Saturday morning and continue building the igloo. Make sure it is big enough for the kids to stand up in. Oh – and don’t forget to build a door and a little window. Lay down a carpet of pine branches and put four children-sized chairs inside the igloo. Stand back and admire the result!
Let the igloo stand there in proud defiance of the thaw that is just starting. (Make sure you eat your veggie hot dogs in there before it melts!)
Yup – some of us find it hard to let go of winter. We just want to enjoy its very last moments — to the full!
Strange Shores: edition number … heck – who’s counting?
Welcome to another blog carnival! The one – the only: Strange Shores! I do believe this is number five, but can’t be sure. I rely on my co-conspirator Paddy to keep count – at least until he runs out of fingers. Just in case you’re new to Strange Shores: this is a blog carnival where we take a look at the world from an ex-pat’s point of view.
As you can see from my photo, spring hasn’t actually got to Sweden yet. Luckily, we got a break from the headlines about snow when Princess Victoria, who will one day be the Queen of Sweden, announced her engagement (at last!) to a regular guy. PaddyK brings you the good news with his tongue in cheek. (Where else would it be? Wait a moment – don’t answer that!)
Someone else who suffered at the hands of the weather gods is the charming Louise of Carmine Superiore. This story shows that she and her family are made of sterner stuff than … say, sugar!
A new friend of mine is the very funny Honeypiehorse. (What is a honeypiehorse anyway?) She’s a Californian transplanted to the chillier climate of Bavaria. Here she takes a look at the four phases of the Oktoberfest – complete with photographic evidence.
Another American is Kelli, who lives in Denmark. She has just started working at Herning High School and this has given her the chance to ponder the differences between education in Texas and Denmark. This will give your little grey cells some food for thought!
An ex-expat is Expateek: an American who lived in Poland but has just moved back to the USA. Trying to give stuff to charity in Poland requires muscles of 
steel. One way of getting those muscles – or dying in the attempt – is to go to the gym. However, if you’re Po from South African visiting a gym in the UK, then anything can happen!
And talking of the unexpected, Brenda in Paraguay takes an entertaining look at driving in Paraguay. In fact, her story reminded me of living in Fiji: the driving there was so exuberant that the buses would drive up onto the pavement and chase us poor pedestrians!
By the way, what do you listen to when you’re riding public transport? This is what Planet Nomad has to say about the music of her adolescence…
Last but not least – my good self. This is how I get buns of steel... on my kick-ass sled! If that doesn’t work, then I just throw myself on the ground and have a good tantrum.
So, all you have to do my friends, is to sit back, grab a cup of your favourite beverage and enjoy these posts! They’ll be up for a few days so that you can always pop back now and then to savour these literary delights.
As for that three-faced horse – it’s been bugging me for weeks. I don’t see why I should be the only who is bugged by it: so here you are! Well, you know what they say about sharing a joy…
Winged wishes: Braja news
UPDATE: You can read more here! http://news.iskcon.com/node/1825/2009-03-14/mayapur_residents_recovering_after_car_crash
To my regular readers: some kind of normal service will be resumed soon! I’m preparing another edition of that whacky carnival you know as Strange Shores. I’ll be posting it up this evening (Sunday) or tomorrow morning.
To my irregular readers: the low-down as I know it about Braja.
- The very kind devotee Paul is going to print out all our comments on Braja’s last post and read them out to her today at the hospital. He then flies back to New Zealand. The link to the updates (that I posted yesterday) will lead you to another of Braja’s friends, who is constantly at her side. There is an e-mail address there, but as she is taking quite a long time to answer, I’m assuming that she has received a lot of e-mails. I’m sure she is very busy and distressed herself and doesn’t have time to answer them all.
- Henry the Dog’s Mum has asked her for a postal address to which we can send cards. In the meantime, I did receive a kind message from Paul, who has this to say:
“The address for the Apollo hospital, as well as phone numbers, email etc can all be found on the following website: http://www.apollohospitals.com/Kolkata.asp
I think it’s a very sweet idea for you all to send cards of support.
I have no doubt it’ll raise her spirits and touch her heart. 
“
- Here is the address:
Apollo Gleneagles Hospital, Kolkata
#58, Canal Circular Road
Kolkata, India
Sheesh – do I have to do all the work for you? 
- Please do NOT send flowers to the hospital as they are not allowed. I believe post takes somewhere between 10-14 days to get to India, so you’d better get started!
Just in: Vodka Mom has posted up a reply she got from Ramadevi. Apparently, she is willing to pass on personal messages to Braja, who doesn’t have her mobile in ICU. (So don’t try to ring yet!)
It’s seven in the morning here on Sunday. Can I please go and get a second cup of coffee?
Quick update: Braja and company
Dear Friends,
The news about Braja’s accident has spread like wildfire and Lisa has suggested that everyone stop for a minute at noon today (Saturday 14 March) to send loving thoughts to Braja, her husband and their driver. In the words of Mother Teresa: “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”
Braja is doing much better and should be able to leave the Intensive Care Unit of the Apollo Hospital in Kolkata in about a week. Unfortunately, her husband has suffered more extensive injuries as has the driver, who might lose a leg. They are all being cared for well, and their fellow devotees are keeping them company both physically and in their prayers.
Some of you have expressed the wish to send cards to Braja at the hospital. One of her friends has sent me the URL to the hospital, so I will post the address shortly. I am just waiting for confirmation from one of her close friends at the hospital to make sure that we are not crossing any cultural lines here and also to ensure that the hospital will be able to cope with huge amounts of mail!
Check back here for more details later on.
And, as always, Braja’s carers are updating their site with news about all three. Visit this site for updates. However, I do suggest that not all of us email Ramadevi as her inbox will be flooded otherwise!
Now go out there and give your loved ones an extra hug!
Lost and Found in India
One of the inexplicable yet positive things about blogging is the sense of community with people that you have never met. On a certain level, you feel as if you know your fellow bloggers: you read their posts, laugh and cry with them, and wonder if they are all right when they haven’t posted in a while.
That is why I was shocked and saddened this morning when I popped over to Braja at Lost and Found in India to see whether she had arrived in Bangkok en route to New Zealand. I left a flippant comment and then started reading some of the other comments. That is when I was horrified to hear that she and her husband Jahnu were in a very serious car accident. Their taxi crashed headlong into a lorry near the airport, where Braja was due to catch her plane.
She is conscious and suffering from some broken bones and facial injuries. Apparently, she had plastic surgery on her face yesterday. Her husband is more seriously injured and is still unconscious. His condition is critical. The taxi driver is also seriously hurt and his legs are badly injured. You can find out more here – this is updated regularly with news about their condition.
Many of you will share my sorrow on hearing this news. Although we have not met Braja, we consider her to be our friend; a wonderful spiritual person who reminds us about what is important in life; who encourages us to remember the beautiful and spiritual side of life. And – oh! – how she makes us laugh with her wicked sense of humour!
I don’t know if you believe in the power of prayer: but I think she does. So, please, keep her and her husband and the taxi driver in your thoughts and your prayers. I’m a great believer in the power of positive thinking, so I’m hoping it will be helpful and uplifting for her to know that we are all thinking of her. You might like to visit her blog and leave her a loving comment. It is my hope that this will help lift her spirits during this difficult time.
I’ve included a picture of this rangoli design to remind us all of the beauty that is at the heart of Braja.
Know your onions
I am worried. You see, I think I know my onions: I know where I stand in life. And that is great. But recently, I have been saddened about the vast number of souls who are still looking for theirs. Their onions, that is.
They have been flooding into this humble blog of mine in search for the golden onion. That’s right, hundreds of onion-less people have come here looking for an onion or two. I feel obliged to help them out and put the onion back into opinion. Or as Shakespeare once said:
“What mean you, sir,
To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame, Transform us not to women.”
A word of advice then to the onion-eyed among you: personally, I like to cut onions while wearing a snorkel and mask. But if you feel this is too weird, then try cutting them under running water, in a sink full of water, or maybe while you’re having a bubble bath. Another tip is to chew gum and chop onions at the same time. Don’t try this if you are a politician though!
Did you know that the onion is one of the oldest vegetables known to humankind? (Well, that’s if you exclude the shrivelled up something-or-other that lives at the bottom of my rucksack.)
Onions were worshipped by the Ancient Egyptians – yes, they were right up there with cats in terms of divinity! They believed that the roundness and the rings symbolized eternal life. (I’m referring to onions here, people, not cats…) Roman gladiators were rubbed down with onion massage oil to keep their muscles firm (I could definitely see myself doing this on Russel Crowe…). And in the Middle Ages, the economic crisis was averted by using onions to pay your rent with.
Not only are onions beautiful when they flower, they’re useful too! Who would have known?
However, I do have to scold the onion for giving us Brits the wrong mental picture of the French. The once popular Onion Johnny was a farmer from Breton who used to come over to Britain and sell pink onions door-to-door. Wearing a striped shirt and beret, riding a bike covered with necklaces of onions, the Onion Johnny created a stereotypical picture of the French in our minds. Either that – or the French really do look like that!
Who knew that the humble onion was in fact a god-like and powerful vegetable?
No wonder there are so many onion-seekers out there. I hope you have found what you were looking for.
Surprise!
Spring is like a grumpy bear that pokes its head out of its cave and then declares: “Ugh – it’s too early to get up! Let’s have another month of hibernation!” This is now our second day of snow. Yesterday, I struggled into Stockholm, to a secret inner courtyard, for our company conference.
Things I learned yesterday:
I will probably never be able to catch up on my lost sleep. However, trying to do so during the afternoon of a day-long conference while sitting at the same table as your two bosses is not to be recommended. It’s all about timing.
If a colleague sitting next to you lets one rip (this one was ear-splitting), you should do what everyone else does: ignore it. Snorting like a horse on crack is not a suitable response.
Best quote:
“Setting yourself goals is a memory of the future.” I love this! Apparently, by visualizing yourself doing something you can trick your mind into creating a memory of something that you want to do in the future. And this means you are more likely to succeed when trying to reach that goal. So, close your eyes and imagine that you have already written that best-selling book – and you’re half way there!
Summing up:
The Swedes have a tendency to want everyone to agree. They get very worried when people have *gasp* conflicting opinions. We had to take it in turns to sum up the day. This is what I had to say:
Where everyone thinks alike – no one thinks at all.
What have you learnt recently?
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It’s past that time again. Calling all ex-pats! Please send me your links to posts about life in your adopted countries if you want to be featured in the next Strange Shores edition. Thanks!
Booked!
There are so many memes going around that I just can’t keep up. Well, I would – if only I could remember who had tagged me when and why and for what… That’s one of the benefits of senility: selective hearing. Wait – my kids practise it all the time… Bang goes that theory!
Anyway, the Country Doctor’s Wife did a great post about her 25 favourite authors. (Make sure you visit this very funny lady – if you haven’t already.) She invited us to join in, and I just couldn’t resist. After all, I do tend to decorate my walls with crap hundreds of books, CDs, a set of bongo drums and a lava lamp!
I got my toes in a twist wondering how I would ever be able to limit myself to just 25 authors. Then I wondered how I would ever remember which 25 I liked. (See above comment about senility.) I then obsessed about which ones to choose – which parameters to use. Then I went to sleep.
To cut a long story short: I don’t think you’ve got the staying power to hear me rabbit on about 25 writers … in one go. Heck – I don’t think I’ve got the staying power! So, I’m going to mention just a few books that have affected me throughout my life. Ready?
Books that affected me/I liked as a child:
1. The Nancy Drew books – by Carolyn Keene (who is a syndicate, not a person). Ah – Nancy, the teenage sleuth! How you enthralled me with your mysteries, your daring, your reckless driving!
2. The Hardy Boys – teen detectives. Written by the same syndicate that produced the Nancy Drew books.
3. The Famous Five and The Secret Seven by Enid Blyton. These books were the staple diet of British kids in the late 1960s. I can remember wolfing down whole platefuls of these adventures when I was sick in bed with one childhool illness or another.
4. The Silver Brumby series by the Australian writer Elyne Mitchell. I was in love with the stallion Thowra and his harem: Boon-boon, Moon and Dawn.
5. And, of course, I must mention The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. My childhood was enriched by these tales of wonder, imagination and the talking lion, Aslan.
Back then – when I was a kid – I loved these books. It is only in much later years that several of these books and their authors have been scrutinized, criticized and re-edited to delete (quite rightly too!) racial stereotyping, as well as racist and sexist remarks.
In my child’s mind, however, they remain the essence of adventure, breaking rules and being free.
Which books set you free as a child?
The historic trousers
You know that meme where you go to the fifth folder and publish the fifth photo?
Well, this isn’t it! For one thing, my photos are not that well organized! And for another, Sir Pe won’t get off my case unless I show you his butt! Sorry, I mean his new trousers.
You see, these are not any old trousers… And they are more than just new trousers: they are historic trousers.
As(s) we go through life, we tend to buy clothes that are the next size up. Or, if you’re a kid, you might shoot up one summer and go up two sizes at once.
And then, as adults, we tend to creep up in size and shape as we get older. Or, we stay more or less the same size, even if everything is going earthwards as if dragged by gravity.
Sir Pe has always bought new trousers that are bigger than the old ones. Until now. After lots of dog walking and giving up his breakfast chocolate bar (I know! Don’t even ask…) – he has now gone down a size.
He celebrated by buying three pairs of historic trousers. And mighty proud he is, too – quite rightly. Although the dog didn’t really see what the fuss was all about.
The search for colour
Sometimes – in that hiatus between real winter and the thaw that teases us with hints of the spring to come…
… the world becomes a haze of grey skies and slushy snow the colour of old leaves.
That is when the spirits soar on the discovery of some much-needed colour.
Sometimes it is hard to see the beauty that is staring you every day in the face.
Mutiny and the beast
After my three years of teaching English in China, I decided to cash in my plane ticket home to England and head off to Cairns, Queensland, where my sister was based. One of the highlights of my year there was learning to scuba dive at the Great Barrier Reef. In fact, I was so hooked (and broke) that I decided the only way to get in some more dives was to work on a dive boat.
Except I didn’t sign on to work on a dive boat. It turned out that the job I got as all-round helping hand was actually on a cargo ship that took supplies out to the shrimp boats at sea off the Queensland coast. As a way of supplementing his income, the slave driver captain took paying guests on board and promised them some stop-offs for diving. We employees too were promised free diving in our leisure time.
The only problem was that we didn’t have much free time at all. In fact, we didn’t even have a cabin to sleep in. The boys slept in the engine room (smelly and noisy) and we girls slept in a hold (smelly and noisy). I don’t think we had a shower during the entire 10-day trip.
As I boarded the mothership, I was blissfully unaware of the fact that the captain had hired us as slaves for ten days. There I was thinking that I could cope with serving the paying guests, doing a spot of washing up and a lot of scuba diving.
“Make some scones!” ordered the captain as I stowed my meagre belongings in the hold.
Scones? From scratch? Without a cookery book in sight… Wild panic threatened to overwhelm me, until I met my angel.
Her name was Sarah and she DID know how to cook. Without using a cookbook. She even enjoyed it!
As we chugged off on our sea voyage from Cairns up to Cape York and then onto Thursday Island in the Torres Straits, I suddenly remembered a vital fact…
… I get seasick!
The first couple of days were tough until the queasiness went away. I scurried around alternating between serving the guests, puking over the rail, washing up, puking over the rail, serving the guests, puking over the rail…
Once the seasickness left me, all that remained was the hard slog of getting up at 6 am to prepare breakfast, clear up, make elevenses, wash up, make lunch, clear up, make afternoon tea, wash up, make dinner and wash up until about midnight.
We did get to go on one fantastic dive with a guest who was an expert scuba diver. And we were allowed off the boat at Lizard Island to enjoy the feeling of sand between our toes for a couple of hours. Other than that, it was hard work all the way. By the time we passed Cape York, Sarah and I and the two deck hands, decided to mutiny once we got to Thursday Island. The captain had completely gone back on his word to let us dive and enjoy the trip.
He didn’t want to let us off the boat at Thursday Island but we went anyway and headed to the pub to drown our sorrows with at least one beer.
There was no time for anything else. One of the guests came running up to us to say that the captain was going to leave us stranded on the isolated island. And although that option was more enticing than working our way back, we realized that we would be well and truly stuck without any money or a change of clothes. So, we dashed back and jumped aboard.
The worst part was that when we got back to Cairns and disembarked, the captain refused to pay us our wages. We could hear him laughing as he sailed off – he had just got free labour for ten days – while we were left empty-handed and despondent.
But not too despondent, I might add – because I did have one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. One day during our trip, the cry went up that there were whales swimming alongside us. I grabbed a mask and snorkel and dived into the water with my clothes on. It was an amazing and humbling experience to swim alongside these gentle giants.
That alone was worth more than any amount of money.
Laughing gas attacks
A lot of you wanted to know more about my job as a … ahem … cook on a dive boat off the Queensland coast, Australia. I will tell you all, I promise – but not today.
You see, when I happened to mention it to my family, they exploded with laughter. Yes – each and every one of them.
“YOU! A cook!”
“I can’t believe it! Were they really desperate, mama?”
They rolled around on the floor, laughing their heads off. Then, full of laughing gas, they floated up to the ceiling just as they do in Mary Poppins and they still haven’t come down! Even the dog rolled on his back in merriment.
Sir Pe didn’t help by asking, “So, was this a ship full of prisoners? And were you the head of the Cruel and Unusual Punishments division?”
With family like this – who needs enemies?
The actual job advertisement asked for a Jill of all trades – someone to look after the paying guests and change their bedsheets. There was no mention at all of cooking, slaving over a hot stove or even of having the slightest knowledge of what a kitchen is.
So, how on earth did the poor passengers I survive? Read how I was nearly stranded in the middle of nowhere – and tricked by the captain…
Another exciting installment to come later on…
Kicking it
After I posted a couple of photos of me and my ‘spark’ or kick-sled, if you like, several of you wrote that you would like to see the spark in action.
Sunday was a glorious day with plenty of sunshine and new snow, so Sir Pe and I rounded up kids and dog and went down to the lake with my camera. Here are the photos Sir Pe took of me kicking along on my kick-sled!
And look! I can do it the other way too…
(I like the shadow play better in this series…)
Up north, where it’s cold for eight or nine months of the year, you can see people transporting shopping or big loads of wood on their kick-sleds.
As for me – I think it’s a kick-ass way of getting around on the ice, not to mention a good way of getting the old buttocks a bit firmer…
Le Grande Interview – Part Two
Time for round two of my interview with the lovely South African Sea Monkey. (Yes – she did ask me quite a lot of questions! Sea monkeys are a curious bunch…)
What other jobs have you done? she asked me while peeling a banana daintily.
Other jobs? So, not my current jobs… (I can tell you more about these in another post one day, if you’re interested.)
Let me see: I worked in the school holidays as a cashier at a large supermarket. It was very stressful when we were busy and people shouted at me for being so clumsy at the till. And yet, at times I felt as if I were a therapist. Old dears would come in during the calm periods of the week just to chat because they were lonely. They all had their favourite ‘girl’ at the till and would queue up just to talk to us. Sweet!
I took a secretarial course in my year off and temped in various offices both near home and in London. My worst job in Londoon was when I worked at a prestigious PR company after university: the men were all so sexist and treated me as if I had no brains at all! My funniest moment came when I was a temporary secretary at a London council department. It was compulsory to stop working for coffee mid-morning and tea in the afternoon. The old ladies in their cardigans asked me to ‘please work more slowly so that you don’t show us up!’
One of my most rewarding jobs was when I worked at a home that looked after young adults with mental and physical impediments. Apart from changing tubes and catheters, the job entailed taking out the young people and .. wait for it… cooking for them! My boss told me that he wasn’t sure how they managed to survive my first weeks there because of the cooking, but after a while, I managed to learn a few set meals that I could cook without burning too much! Poor them…
I grew fiercely attached to these difficult but wonderful kids (OK – I was a kid too, about 23!) and would rage against people who thought that they shouldn’t be seen at the public swimming pool, for example, because they scared the ‘normal’ children by being ‘not normal’. It nearly broke my heart to leave them when the time came to go to China as a volunteer teacher with the British government aid program, VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas). I wrote about some of my memories from that time here.
Other jobs include: teacher of English as a Foreign Language (in Spain, China and the UK). Waitress in Australia. Organizer of a ballet festival in Spain. Oh – and cook on a ship in northern Australia. Now – that is the stuff for another post!
Who says what?