How fortunate am I!! This morning Mrs Stella Ellis advised me that I have won a cash prize of one million pounds in the British Lottery. She sent her heartiest congratulations.
How kind! Thanks, Stella!
The delightful Mr Fred Peters (who is not a Nigerian based in Lagos, she assures me) has been assigned to assist me.
Is this assisting me in spending my million dollars? Or spending what money I already have in my bank account?
Stella strongly advises me to keep my winning details and information from the public to avoid fraudulant claims. And I can't claim if I am under 18 or working for the British Lottery.
Ah, they even realise that teenagers are irresponsible and would spend the million on drugs and alcohol! (Come to think of it, I might do the same .......)
And I suppose working for the British Lottery might be a bit of insider trading, so to speak. Although they would certainly know a scam when they saw one.
I only have five days to contact my mate Freddy, otherwise I lose all this lovely money. Stella urged me to contact him today, giving my name, address, age, occupation, sex
And why is my gender relevant? Will I get preferential treatment for being female, or the opposite?
Aaaaah, it's so tempting! Should I send spurious information to the hard-working Freddy? Can I string this tired old scam along for a joke or would it merely become tiresome? Perhaps I will just daydream of the day I really do win the lottery.
In the words of Marlon Brando's Stan "Stella, Stella!!!"
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Not the Halfwit Postie
"Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night will keep me from my appointed rounds"
Guy has got a new job. Part-time postie on Macleay Island.
He will be working three days a week, Monday, Thursday and Friday. This will certainly top up the coffers, which have been dwindling of late.
He delivers to roughly one third of the island on his trusty motorbike (courtesy of Australia Post). However, he had to buy his own helmet ... there goes the first week's pay!!
He told me NOT to call him the Halfwit Postie so he is .... Not the Halfwit Postie.
In the meantime, I am continuing to try to get islanders interested in http://www.macleayisland.net/, my information site. It's a long, slow process but I think I am seeing some light at the end of the tunnel. I've actually had a couple of businesses advertise and my Google rating is rising daily.
I'm still painting too. I can't see that we will make any money out of my art, even after my death but hey ... it's all good fun. Here's two of the latest efforts:
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Terrible Tick
The latest victim of the scourge of the Halfwit Sundays is Teisa. She has been bitten by a paralysis tick and is currently residing at Koala Park Veterinary Clinic on the mainland. (I have taken out a second mortgage to pay the expected bill.)On going downstairs on Monday morning, I saw her reclining on the sofa. But when she didn't leap into the air and run for the food bowl, I was sure something was wrong. Examing her, I found that she couldn't stand up: her back legs were paralysed.
The evil paralysis tick had attacked my lo
vely Teisa. Can you imagine a worse creature? It climbs up into trees and bushes and launches itself onto passing victims. Cats, dogs, even humans fall to its evil bite. Yes, even humans!
Once on board, it scuttles to a handy crevice and starts burrowing its way into the flesh, sucking blood as it goes. It generally takes two to three days to affect the animal, starting with excessive salivation and then paralysing the hind legs of the animal. This gradually proceeds up the spine unless the animal is treated.
We didn't know this! We found a tick on Teisa and removed it completely. No tick head was left on the cat, so we thought all was well. But apparently we should have taken her to the vet immediately. If treated then, she would have avoided the paralysis stage or it would not have been so severe.
The Vet on the island only comes on Tuesdays and Saturdays so it was a mad rush to the barge to see if we could get on to take her to the mainland. Luckily, there was an empty berth so we took her across to the vet, who saw her immediately. She was treated with anti-tick serum and there she will stay until she can stand, eat and urinate. (It's Thursday afternoon now and still no good news.)
EVEN HUMANS?
With humans, the main problem is allergy. I've known people in the Halfwits having to be hellicoptered out due to tick bites. It swells up the airways and can cause severe breathing difficulties.
Even if you do find out and remove it, you will find yourself with an instant headache. The longer the tick has been on you, the more severe the headache will be. So beware!
Robert got bitten on the leg last week and his whole leg became swollen. He likened the headache to a long-lasting migraine. Another friend Guy has been doing bush work on nearby Russell Island and has had a dozen small ticks removed from various parts of his body. They had fallen on him whilst he was working under casuarina trees. He has taken to stripping the minute he gets home and having an all-over body search with the help of his Dad.
The Garden of Eden had the serpent: The Halfwits have the tick.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Joy of the 20c book
One of the benefits of living in the Halfwit Sundays is the Op Shop. Where else in the world can you get a book for 20c?
I regularly find myself in there, trawling the shelves to see what the tide has brought in. It's a fascinating mixture, given the ecletic population mix of the island itself.
The island is an amalgam of artists, greenies, musicians, retirees and young families with a desire to raise their children in a natural environment. I've never lived anywhere with so many painters, sculptors, writers or craftsmen. Every second person is fulfulling a desire to write their life story or paint that sunset. The others are caring for the bush, counting the birdlife and saving the turtles and dugongs in the Bay from extinction.
But I digress ... I was talking about the 20c book.
My last $1 worth of pulp fiction found me -
A Patrick White novel "Eye of the Storm", one of his best. I'd read it before but it was worth a second read after a lapse of ten years or so.
"The Secret Life of Plants" "astounding discoveries about the physical, emotional and spiritual relations between plants and man" (like, yer!!!) OK, it's kinda creepy to be chatting to your plants. Makes you think of Prince Charles and God knows that's not a good idea. "Well, hello, pelargonium. How are you today? Bit hungover? Cat peed on you again?"
"Moreton Bay People" a collection of reminiscences from bay personalities spanning the twentieth century.This sounded a lot better than it turned out to be. Earlier history might have been better but this seemed to be a bunch of old grannies talking about when they were young.
An old edition of Lonely Planet Thailand (with page 23 missing). Always good in an emergency, I love to read about places I plan to visit. Yes, I've been to Thailand but only Bangkok (en route to London) and Phi Phi Island (for scuba diving)
A very strange but addictive first novel by Marisha Pessl entitled "Special Topics in Calamity Physics". Took me quite a while to get the hang of it but then I couldn't put it down. Won't try to describe it: to say it's a murder mystery lowers it to the banal. I loved it!!
What a magnificent hoard.
And if I don't like one, so what? I can donate it back to the best little second hand book store in Queensland! After all, it only cost me 20c!
I regularly find myself in there, trawling the shelves to see what the tide has brought in. It's a fascinating mixture, given the ecletic population mix of the island itself.
The island is an amalgam of artists, greenies, musicians, retirees and young families with a desire to raise their children in a natural environment. I've never lived anywhere with so many painters, sculptors, writers or craftsmen. Every second person is fulfulling a desire to write their life story or paint that sunset. The others are caring for the bush, counting the birdlife and saving the turtles and dugongs in the Bay from extinction.
But I digress ... I was talking about the 20c book.
My last $1 worth of pulp fiction found me -
A Patrick White novel "Eye of the Storm", one of his best. I'd read it before but it was worth a second read after a lapse of ten years or so.
"The Secret Life of Plants" "astounding discoveries about the physical, emotional and spiritual relations between plants and man" (like, yer!!!) OK, it's kinda creepy to be chatting to your plants. Makes you think of Prince Charles and God knows that's not a good idea. "Well, hello, pelargonium. How are you today? Bit hungover? Cat peed on you again?"
"Moreton Bay People" a collection of reminiscences from bay personalities spanning the twentieth century.This sounded a lot better than it turned out to be. Earlier history might have been better but this seemed to be a bunch of old grannies talking about when they were young.
An old edition of Lonely Planet Thailand (with page 23 missing). Always good in an emergency, I love to read about places I plan to visit. Yes, I've been to Thailand but only Bangkok (en route to London) and Phi Phi Island (for scuba diving)
A very strange but addictive first novel by Marisha Pessl entitled "Special Topics in Calamity Physics". Took me quite a while to get the hang of it but then I couldn't put it down. Won't try to describe it: to say it's a murder mystery lowers it to the banal. I loved it!!
What a magnificent hoard.
And if I don't like one, so what? I can donate it back to the best little second hand book store in Queensland! After all, it only cost me 20c!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saving the "Camargue"
Early on Saturday morning, we received a frantic phone call from Billie.
"The Camargue has gone! I walked down to Dalpura this morning and she wasn't on her mooring! What shall I do?"
Billie is a delightful Scottish lady in her seventies whose husband Dudley works on the mines. She reminds me of a tiny little bird, bright inquisitive eyes and the cocked head that goes with them.
The night before had been extremely stormy on the island. We could hear the wind thrashing the treetops all night and had already decided to check our own boat after breakfast.
Hastily finishing our coffee, we piled into the 4WD and set off. Guy dropped me at Thompson's Point to climb down and walk along the beach to see if I spotted the errant craft. He, with Karla and Bec (here for the weekend) continued on to the Boat Club to launch the safety boat.
A turtle lay forlornly on the sand as I approached. Dead? There were no prop marks but although I willed that thin skin on the neck to pulse, the eyes remained glazed and the waves lapped over its flippers, burying them in the sand. Another casualty of the infernal plastic bag! Fishermen take their bait out in a bag and toss it over the side without a thought. Poor turtle comes along and the faint remnants of fish tempt it to swallow the bag which ties up its stomach.
Saddened, we left the burial for later in the day and hopped onto the safety boat.
The weather was still gusty. The previous night had been a king tide as well as the strong winds and now the wind was whipping up the waves like a giant eggbeater. It was easier to speed across the top of the waves rather than labour up and down each swell, so we hung on and closed our eyes against the salt spray. Screams of delight rang through the air each time we became airborne.
Suddenly, we espied the errant "Camargue" hiding itself in the mangroves about 500 metres from its mooring. We nosed in towards shore, finally jumping out on the beach and wading ashore. Ouch!!! Have you ever walked on a mangrove beach? The tiny mangrove roots stick up out of the sand every centimetre or so and they hurt! I imagine it's like walking on a bed of nails. We tied our rubber ducky onto a mangrove trunk before hobbling towards the "Camargue".
The "Camargue" is a 20' steel craft with a wooden mast and twin skeg keels. At least this meant that it was unlikely to have much damage. A sail boat with the conventional deep keel would be lying on its side with mast and boom shattered. But "Camargue" was sitting firmly on the sand, rammed into a group of large mangroves.
Guy hopped aboard and checked out the craft. Apart from a showering of debris from the mangroves, she appeared to be OK. The mangroves had definitely come off worse, with large branches floating in the water around the boat.
On the beach, I telephoned the good news to Billie.
And the bad news. "Camargue" had run aground on a king tide. With her weight, we would have to wait for the next king tide to shift her. And the next king tide is not until October.
The joys of boat ownership!
"The Camargue has gone! I walked down to Dalpura this morning and she wasn't on her mooring! What shall I do?"
Billie is a delightful Scottish lady in her seventies whose husband Dudley works on the mines. She reminds me of a tiny little bird, bright inquisitive eyes and the cocked head that goes with them.
The night before had been extremely stormy on the island. We could hear the wind thrashing the treetops all night and had already decided to check our own boat after breakfast.
Hastily finishing our coffee, we piled into the 4WD and set off. Guy dropped me at Thompson's Point to climb down and walk along the beach to see if I spotted the errant craft. He, with Karla and Bec (here for the weekend) continued on to the Boat Club to launch the safety boat.
A turtle lay forlornly on the sand as I approached. Dead? There were no prop marks but although I willed that thin skin on the neck to pulse, the eyes remained glazed and the waves lapped over its flippers, burying them in the sand. Another casualty of the infernal plastic bag! Fishermen take their bait out in a bag and toss it over the side without a thought. Poor turtle comes along and the faint remnants of fish tempt it to swallow the bag which ties up its stomach.
Saddened, we left the burial for later in the day and hopped onto the safety boat.
The weather was still gusty. The previous night had been a king tide as well as the strong winds and now the wind was whipping up the waves like a giant eggbeater. It was easier to speed across the top of the waves rather than labour up and down each swell, so we hung on and closed our eyes against the salt spray. Screams of delight rang through the air each time we became airborne.
Suddenly, we espied the errant "Camargue" hiding itself in the mangroves about 500 metres from its mooring. We nosed in towards shore, finally jumping out on the beach and wading ashore. Ouch!!! Have you ever walked on a mangrove beach? The tiny mangrove roots stick up out of the sand every centimetre or so and they hurt! I imagine it's like walking on a bed of nails. We tied our rubber ducky onto a mangrove trunk before hobbling towards the "Camargue".
The "Camargue" is a 20' steel craft with a wooden mast and twin skeg keels. At least this meant that it was unlikely to have much damage. A sail boat with the conventional deep keel would be lying on its side with mast and boom shattered. But "Camargue" was sitting firmly on the sand, rammed into a group of large mangroves.
Guy hopped aboard and checked out the craft. Apart from a showering of debris from the mangroves, she appeared to be OK. The mangroves had definitely come off worse, with large branches floating in the water around the boat.
On the beach, I telephoned the good news to Billie.
And the bad news. "Camargue" had run aground on a king tide. With her weight, we would have to wait for the next king tide to shift her. And the next king tide is not until October.
The joys of boat ownership!
Monday, August 17, 2009
My early morning run
The platoon advances up the beach
a slippery, sideways pincer movement,
armour glistening black against the wet sand.
The leader calls a halt. Something approaches.
Thunder in the distance and the sand shakes.
Warily, they retreat and as the sound increases,
turn and run for cover ... a rout.
From their foxholes in the sand, eyes peer on stalks
at the early morning jogger
pounding along the beach.
a slippery, sideways pincer movement,
armour glistening black against the wet sand.
The leader calls a halt. Something approaches.
Thunder in the distance and the sand shakes.
Warily, they retreat and as the sound increases,
turn and run for cover ... a rout.
From their foxholes in the sand, eyes peer on stalks
at the early morning jogger
pounding along the beach.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Flinders Day at Coochie
We went over to neighbouring Coochiemudlo Island to take part in the annual Flinders Day celebrations. This was to commemorate the day when Matthew Flinders set foot on Coochiemudlo.
Obviously, he took one look at Macleay, the tide was out and he chose the sandy beaches of Coochie instead. Story of our Halfwit Lives!!!
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Coochie really do a great job of the whole thing. Lots of locals dressed up as various olden day people and even a little cannon to set off. But why, we ask? Didn't they want Flinders to turn up? Or was it to scare off the visitors from Macleay?They also had markets (mmmm, retail therapy!!!) and the good news is that I bought a lot of Christmas presents there. All very tasteful ... I did not get sucked into the tie-died petticoats.
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