Archive for September, 2007

Was thinking of renaming this entry something pithy like ‘Fucking technology …’ but decided to leave it as it was. I did in fact write a bloody great entry about 10 days ago, but my browser crashed as I click the ‘submit’ button and so in protest I left the blog alone, in the hopes that a bit of solitary confinement make it wise up.

Right … hold on .. just reading the entry below to work out my timeframe. Hmmm … the 3rd of September … bollocks. That’s a sizeable timeframe. Okay … few clues in that last entry, so let’s start with …

Weekend Away
One of our friends here took it upon herself to block book 10 cabins on a caravan site down the coast from here in Batemans Bay. She asked us and a load of other folks we know to join her and so it was that on a cold and wet Friday, we loaded up the car and headed due south. Many of the parents elected to take their kids out of school early in order to miss the traffic, but we being British, let Jack do a full day and then hit the road at about 4:30 in the afternoon. Unfortunately most of Sydney had decided to drive south at the same time (thanks APEC) and that, combined with rush hour traffic and road works meant it took us 80 minutes to travel 8km across Swindon. As we finally broke free of the gridlocked traffic and the rain sheeted down so heavily that the most effective windscreen wiper setting was ‘off’, I turned to Liz and asked her to remind me whether we’d emigrated to Australia or Rhyl.

After a bite to eat in Ulladulla we arrived in Batemans Bay at about 8:30 and wasted no time in getting completely fucking wankered. The kids all tucked up in their beds we all congregated on one of the cabin’s decks and put the world to rights. We went to bed at about 3am – which seemed like a great plan right up until the point at which we all remembered we had kids with us.

We were awoken at about 7:30am by the arrival of a pack of children wielding light sabres, pirate swords, baseball mitts and viking helmets. We took some solace in the thought that, being the second last cabin in the row, eight other sets of parents had already had their nice holiday sleep well and truly buggered up. We later learned that one of the parents had been sat on the toilet having his morning movement when confronted by a pack of kindy-age brigands.

The weather improved sufficiently to shift even me into a mildly holiday-ish mood. The kids ran riot, played beach cricket, swam and fought and made up and the parents migrated from cabin to cabin chatting and grazing. That evening we had a group barbie and then, in true Australian fashion, the men and women moved to separate areas to continue the evening. The ladies all congregated in one cabin and watched Greece, followed by Saturday Night Fever on the telly … the men all congregated in one cabin and watched some tedious rudgby league match. In awe of the choices set before me, I went back to my cabin and watched The World’s Fastest Indian with my friend Jack Daniels. Liz returned to the cabin at about 2am, climbed into bed, farted (and my god it smelt), rolled over and started snoring. Not even a drunken holiday leg-over then …

The drive back was far more civilised. We headed south first, so Jack could return to a place called Guerilla Bay where he stayed with Liz’s parents when they were over last year. We had a walk on the beach, climbed some rocks and then headed for home.

We stopped off in Milton at a cafe we’d had a great meal at before, only to discover that it had closed its doors permanently. So we ate somewhere else and it wasn’t very great. Or cheap. But it was at least quick. Enjoyable weekend away all things considered.

Work-shy
My new job has not only begun, but I already have quite a few customers. We started off a couple of weeks ago, calling in on places in Barefoot Bay. John (the franchisor who is accompanying me on cold-calls for the next three months) is a big believer in ‘scripts’ when talking to prospective clients. He likes to set specific ‘outcomes’ and he isn’t happy unless we leave a business knowing who the ‘decision maker’ is and whether they are likely to be A, B orLizgrade customers. I, however, have a different approach and – I have to say – it bears far more fruit than John’s technique. I simply say that I’m out and about introducing myself to other local businesses, here’s my business card and rate card, give me a bell if you need your PC fixing. People seem to appreciate the soft sell, because when John takes one side of a street and I take the other, I do considerably better than him in getting prospects and/or actual customers. He’s a nice enough bloke is John, but he doesn’t half spout some half-arsed pscyho-babble.

Anyway – within the space of two and a half weeks, I have eight fully paid-up customers and a couple of grand in the bank. All the money’s going to get eaten up by setting up a full limited company, amongst other inevitable expenses, but it’s great that my little start-up is not eating into our household funds. Thus far I’ve only ‘done’ my own little town, Broughton and a bit of Belfast. Have met some genuinely nice people in my travels too, which is nice.

Surf Patrol
Fair bit’s been happening in and around the surf club. Firstly (not sure if I mentioned this earlier in the blog, can’t be arsed to go and look) – I’m on the committee now. Secondly in the capacity of club registrar, I had a very busy night last Saturday when we threw a movie night/club registration evening. There was a really good turn-out and 7 hours after sitting down in front of my laptop to sign people up onto SLSA’s official membership system, I finally gut to shut the lid and go home.

My training for my IRB crewman’s certificate has begun again as well. Nick, who is showing me the ropes, decided it was high time I got christened in that capacity and took me through a breaking five foot wave. Shat myself at the time, but almost immediately wanted to do it again. My job as crewie in such circumstances is to ‘get up the front’ which basically involves lying on my right side on the bow of the boat, holding onto the bow rope for dear life, acting as human ballast as the little rib punches through the wave.

I have now taken posession of my official red and yellow surf lifesavers uniform, prior to my first patrol this Saturday (in fact the first patrol of the entire season at our beach). I showed off the uniform to Liz who announced that the little beanie cap we all have to wear made my look like a complete tit. “Better a tit than a bit of flotsom,” I said.

School Days
Jack now gets the bus to school most days. I say *most* days, because like most families, mornings don’t always go according to plan. No matter when we set the alarm clock for we alway seem to spend the last 10 minutes prior to departure running up and down stairs searching for hats, shoes, home-readers, lunch boxes and sweatshirts. At such moments, Jack is like the calm in the eye of the storm – which isn’t always helpful when he’s the only one who knows where his blue gym shorts are. Inevitably he just takes himself off to the car and waits for me and Liz to finish sprinting around the house like demented treasure seekers.

This week Jack’s class had a visit from Bob the snakeman, who brought a few of his snakey friends with him. Jack was full of interesting facts when he got home from school, including the fact that snake scales are made out of the same stuff as our finger nails and blue tongue lizards eat snakes. Jack’s school holidays start at the end of this week, which will prove to an interesting time I ‘m sure, as Liz and I try to juggle him and our new jobs.