You know how when you go to the pub and have a beer with the boys you talk about footy and tits? Well I had tea last night and had a beer with a few of the boys and we had a bit of a yarn about footy and tits and this and that. One of the discussions covered the area of post-war rebuilding and how various countries go about it. The general consensus was that the Sepps were the most generous with their time and money, going to a fair bit of trouble to clean up the mess left behind. The Poms and the Bonzer Aussies didn't get such a good wrap, although I neglected to mention the sterling work done by the Poms after the Malayan Emergency. tangential to this discussion was a bit of a yarn about the relative ethical standards which the various nations adhere to when they are in a winner takes all death match, with no rules and no referee. We had a bit of a mental block, however: what was the name of the British Air-Marshall who came up with the idea of fire-bombing Dresden? I think that it started with 'H'. Also a supplementary question for extra credits: who did he lose in the Blitz? Place the papers on the desk at the front and leave quietly when you have completed the exam.
I like motorcycles. A lot. Postie bikes, superbikes, Italian exotica, UJMs, Hardly Drivables - I like 'em all and can see situations in which I would like to own one. Some motorcycles I just bring myself to desire, however. Such as this: Looks OK at first glance, doesn't it? Fun little thing to ride, front wheel up, etc. The trouble is that it's 'powered' by this:
Which is kind of unfortunate, in that a lot of the joy of riding a motorcycle is aural. Even plain Jane UJMs such as my motorcycle sound like sex when you get enthusiastic on the twisty side of the handlebars and the induction roar starts to emanate from the airbox. The Lovely Lady has even commented on the sound that reaches her in the Little Red Car when she followed me into the Twisties. As compared to this thing, which would sound like a tram. This thing looks the goods, too, huh? Once again appearances are being deceptive. Although it looks like something Loris Capirossi uses to duck down to the shop to buy a carton of milk, it is in fact powered by this:
That's right folks, no MotoGP inspired pneumatic valved 17,000 rpm, 250bhp per litre screamer, it's a diesel. D. I. E. S. E. L. As well as aural, one of the bonus, no-extra-cost joys of motorcycling is tactile. From the angry buzz of an Aprilia RS250 at three billion rpm on a windy road to the uneven lope of a H-D poking down a freeway to the once-a-powerpole thump of an old pommy single, motorcycle engines each have a unique feel to them. I think that this may be just a little too unique for moi. At least now H-Ds may loose the epithet 'two-wheeled tractor'. This is just wrong, so I'm going to work.
Stupid fucking Firefox decided to update itself midway through writing this post
Therefore, if you find you find the writing a little lacklustre (or should that be lacklustre-er?) I suggest that you get in touch with the Mozilla Corporation and vent your spleen at them. Spleen-venting should be a regular event in any case. I find it therapeutic. Anyway. What I was writing about was the things that have been happening in my life to cause my sporadic trickle of posts to dwindle down to a few reluctant drops which just won't let go no matter how hard you shake. Long term loiterers will be aware that on my recent holiday I met a Lovely Lady. Said Lovely Lady has come to figure quite significantly in my life. Indeed, if I am not careful, the 'L' word may come into play and we can't have that, can we? I mean, I'm a rough, tough outback bloke™ and we just don't use language like that. The Lovely Lady works for a scuba diving school in Nha Trang in Vietnam. Apparently she doesn't find this at all onerous. Can't say that I blame her, either. Looks passable in the picture, anyway. After I came home from my holidays the Lovely Lady stayed in Melbourne for a few weeks sorting out some personal stuff and then flew up here to spend a few more weeks with me. Yes, flew up. I didn't know Lightning Ridge had an airport either. Took her from eight in the morning until after nine at night, on three progressively smaller 'planes. The last one looked like a VW with wings. Never say die. Whilst she was here we had the occasional chat with each other and the Lovely Lady decided that she would see out her contract in Vietnam and return to live here with me. Remember what I said about the 'L' word? Well even worse than that, the 'M' word might have been given a run. I'm nervous just alluding to it. Anyway, I took another week off and we went to the Sunshine coast for a few days, via the Bunya mountains. Bonzer trip, worth a post of its own, pertickerlerly the day we spent at the Australia Zoo. At this stage I will just say that there was an admirable lack of mawkishness at the death of Steve Irwin and that everybody should go there at least once in there lives - it really is brilliant. I dropped the Lovely Lady at the airport and even managed to get a little misty as I watched her boarding her flight. I drove straight home, arriving here at about ten-thirty, to start work at six a.m. the next day (Wednesday). I had something of an epiphany on Friday as I was performing my allotted tasks. The Lovely Lady works in paradise and has a job there for as long as she wants. Pays bugger-all, but with very little debt to cover, who cares. She was going to give up paradise to live here. I thought that this was perhaps not the most sensible idea that anybody ever had, certainly it isn't an option that I would relish, so I have decided to pull my sign down here and try my hand in Vietnam. Apparently they are crying out for people to teach English over there. However, I have also heard that as well as a TEFL/ TESOL accreditation, you also need a uni degree. I have put out a few feelers today and am awaiting a reply. The Lovely Lady is putting out feelers in Nha Trang. Apparently she can tip me into giving the locals swimming lessons, but this would be at best a sideline. She is also keen for us to do some volunteer work teaching English to homeless kids, which sounds like a satisfying way to pass the time. Then again, it may all come to nothing. I hope not.
