Farm appreciation and my new eight-legged pet…

So, I’m back from the farm, and I’ve been thrust all too quickly into a completely different world. One day I’m mucking shit from a horse’s stable, applying plaster to the walls of a log cabin, photographing goannas on trees and working my Jessica Simpson blue checked shirt and denim hotpants look (sort of), and the next I’m back in a swivel chair, on the 29th floor of an office block. (Sigh).

It’s not that I’m ungrateful to have finally scored a job. Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been whinging for long enough from the vortex of my boredom in Bondi. Life is looking up. I finally feel as though I belong again. I’m a valued human being with a strict routine, living by the clock, burdened by expectations, just like everyone else. It’s a good thing! Isn’t it? Hmmmm. Well, maybe. OK so I got eaten alive by mosquitoes in Bulga Creek. I still look like a pizza. My bed was so broken I spent every night in fear of being swallowed whole by a set of mattress springs, and my trainers are more ‘full of shit’ than me. But I miss that country air already! Oh I long for a home where the buffalo/kangaroos roam! Where the deer /possums and the antelope/pythons play. (Um… did they ever make an Australian version of that song, ’cause they really should).

I miss the six year old  called Eden and his total fascination with Peter Rabbit on the iPad. SEE, it can be used for educational purposes and he totally loved the blackberries! I miss the way he played games with me, too; games that only we understood. Pixies and unicorns came to life in that farmhouse as we crouched on the floor, convinced our magic keys (lego bricks) could unlock the gateway to a safer world. He believed in everything I said. I miss the sick rooster we nursed back to life, the puppy who went from whimpering in a cardboard box to walking round the living area in the space of just a few days. I miss the Jack and Cokes with the guys when the lights went out. I miss the quad rides to the flats, the Aboriginal snake tales, the murder mystery surrounding a rusty bus that’s actually been on the missing vehicle list (and the property) since the  1970s! I miss the bakery runs, cooking for ten people, laughing at the cockatoo squawking his own name from his cage in the corner : “HELLO FRED!!!” I miss it all. It’s funny how much you can miss actually, after just a few days. But I’m definitely going back.

In the mean time… while I was off cavorting in the countryside, there was a little bit of wildlife taking up residence in my Bondi bedroom. This little man here went and spun his world wide web in my window frame while I was away and even though he definitely didn’t ask permission, he has been nice enough to catch a heap of pesky flies in my absence. Bless him. At first I wasn’t sure it was very polite of him to take up the ENTIRE window… I mean, look at it!  Most spiders would just weave a polite little tapestry in the corner there, you know: “I’ll just put it here if you don’t mind, I won’t bother you, I’ll just keep myself to myself behind this curtain if that’s cool, thank you SO much for letting me crash here n all…” but not this guy. Oh no, he’s just gone and taken over the whole bloody thing, like a selfish gypsy blocking a driveway with his caravan. I moved here for the sea view and I can’t frickin see a thing through this monstrosity! Honestly. Selfish swine.

Anyway, I am calling him Bulga in honor of the farm I have grown to love. He’s my new pet. Ah nature, I LOVE YOU. And I love hungry Bulga, now, even though he’s rude and has eight legs, because all of God’s creatures are here for a reason and we should appreciate them all.

If he crawls on me of course, he’s dead.