3 May 2011 - Koramba Cotton, NSW

The days have passed uneventfully but pleasantly. We rise to laughter of the kookaburras, then breakfast. Chris goes off to work just before 7.30 am, I clean up the caravan, brave the communal laundry if required, then go for my walk of an hour or so, read until lunch, then attack the increasing flow of business that flows into my computer via the aerial perched out on top of the tin power box, once dinner is prepared and doing its own thing in the crock pot. Who would have thought when we purchased that back in Maitland how very essential it would become!

My companions are those I commune with on my walks; the hundreds of finches, wrens, peewees, screeching cockatoos, the crows whose cry high above is a cross between newborn babies and cats on heat in a fight at night, the butterflies (yellow, white, the palest of blue with dark lines, and others), grasshoppers as big as my hand in flight and a myriad of other wild life. I, the lone foreign Kiwi, listen to them all and take care of others that might be lurking in the undergrowth as my husband regularly cautions me.

My mate, the Mechanic's Dog

My other companion is The Mechanic’s dog, who pays me a visit most afternoons. I asked Chris to find out his name, but for now he must remain just Dog, because the answer of “Bing, or something like that” is just not acceptable. We sit under the awning with our drinks, a coffee for me and a plastic meat tray of water for him. He likes to listen to classical music,  particularly that by Rodrigo, or plays chase-the-gum-stick until the evening midgies drive me inside. Alas I have witnessed him being unfaithful, cosying up with the men as they wait for their morning transport, however my affections are also directed to others.

Our backyard

Of course I miss Chris’ company during the day; we have been constantly with each other since we landed on these shores in late January. He arrives home tired after twelve to thirteen hours of work, as I am by that time. We dine and chat about our days; he tells me that The American has ordered four new round bale harvesters at $950,000 a piece. I remark that there will therefore be no work for module builders here next year, but he and his co-workers are satisfied that John Deere has back orders for a couple of years. Maybe we will be back next year for the same?

Sometimes if we are not too tired, we take out the Scrabble, but an hour of that takes the evening to the dizzy lateness of eleven, which for those that know me, is way way past my bedtime. Chris wins nearly all our games, however I am slowly learning his cunning ways. As in life, Chris is far better at considering the consequences of his actions than I, and this is reflected in his game. However, I will conquer yet!

But mostly he is happy to be away from the incessant noise of the presser and to be with me, even if I have little to recount. Perhaps even the absence of television (reception) is a blessing.

Newspapers which have been a daily essential to us, now take no place in our lives. When I think of it, I note any news of consequence when I log on to Google. We are aware that Rodney has been ousted from The Party, and that Hone has set up a new party which no doubt has more modern tolerance for obscenity than did the one abandoned. We are aware that Gaddafi’s youngest son has been wiped out as has Osama bin Laden. And of course that the whole Middle East is in a state of chaos, all of which seems very remote from the chirping of the crickets here as I write this.