I'm Back...
(This has taken me about 3 weeks to write so everything is in present tense though some of it happened a while ago,...)
I discovered the other day that someone (other than Heather-- hello Heather) was reading my blog. Huh! What do you know... So, I thought I'd try giving it another go. And the strange thing is, I find myself in a very similar position to last time I was doing this. In fact the only thing that has changed since then is my job. I was just at a Convention and am in the middle of a road trip and am soon to take part in EnVision. All like last time, if I remember correctly. But let me start at the start.
For a few months before Christmas, I knew I was going to be quitting my job. I'd had enough. I was ready to slash my wrists or (better yet) someone else's. But if I hung on just a little bit longer I'd get a pay rise in the new year which meant my 12 weeks holidays that I had owing would be worth more and... There were quite a few good reasons why I was hanging around.
But then, one day, I decided I'd had enough. I was sitting at my desk at about 9:30 in the morning, just recovering from the usual rush of phone calls, and I started to write m resignation letter on the spot. Christmas eve, I'd be gone.
That was in the middle of November. And the next six weeks were the slowest, worst of all the horrible weeks I'd had. I think I've said this before-- the people were great (except for my arch nemesis) but listening to people complain all day about products I wasn't interested in? Not good. Some of the customers were great-- call in every couple of weeks (I knew addresses off by heart) and not take their all too understandable frustration out on me. Those are the people I liked to help.
Anyway, November and December were the slowest months ever. They took about forty-seven days each. Check the record books, I'm positive they'll back me up on that.
Near the end I found a job washing cars at the airport. I'm still there-- turn up, do my work, go home-- but am thinking of finding something new when I get back. If I can.
And speaking of leaving, my arch nemesis got fired a couple of weeks after I left. Huh! And he stole a work van. Seriously.
The boss told him he was fired and could leave straight away.
Nemesis said, "Cool, can I get a lift home?"
The boss came back with, "No, we're all too busy."
So Nemesis took a van and drove home in it.
The boss was going to call the police but somebody talked him out of it. And rightly so. Even the guy who got fired for being an idiot and missing 42 days of work in his 3 month probation period (Ok, slight exaggeration. It was about 10.) Where was I? Oh, yeah, that guy got a lift home. Now, I believe in winning, but I don't believe in stooping to the petty tactics of the opposition.
A member of my cricket team once told me-- after the game-- that, while he was umpiring (players sometimes have to umpire while their own team is batting as there aren't enough proper umpires) there was an LBW (leg before wicket for the uninitiated-- contentions most of the time anyway) he gave 'not out' when it was actually out. I replied that if I found out he ever cheated again he wouldn't play in my team. Which was stupid, I should have gotten rid of him on the spot-- obviously he would just avoid telling me in the future, but anyway. The point is (yes, there is a point)-- I play to win but I play fair.
But back to the story... I quit my job and have been washing cars and writing novels ever since. Not a lot else. Apart from watching movies. About 35 at the cinema already this year. (Did I tell you about my list? It's pretty impressive... If you're impressed by things like that.)
And I signed up for Thylacon at Canberra last year, so obviously I was going. And I decided that if I was flying all the way to Tasmania then I might as well get my money's worth.
A week before, Mark, my roomie, sent me an email saying he was only staying 3 nights, despite the fact that, for about six months, 5 nights of room had been booked. I couldn't afford two nights on my own, but it was too late to do anything, so I pack my bags and decided to work it out later. I love plans like that.
I got to the hotel pretty early and sent myself a couple of SMS's asking where I was. Seriously. You see, I dropped my mobile phone in water two days before setting off. My mobile phone did not appreciate it at all. So I had to buy a new one. It's small and yellow, though not a lot like a corn kernel. (What? My feet are cold, give me a break!)
Anyway, before I left Brisbane I exchanged a couple of SMS's with Jason N (here after referred to as Jason). I noticed that, though he was in my sim card, his name was not coming up on my screen to say he was the one who'd sent the message. So I extracted a number from the last of the messages and attached his name to it in the sim. The problem was, apparently, I extracted the "To" number instead of the "From" number. ie, I got my own number and didn't even look at it.
So, here I am, sitting in the foyer of the hotel in Hobart, not sure whether to wait for Jason and Mark (my roomie-- whose number I didn't have) or go for a bit of a wander. I decided to send Jason an SMS to see where he was.
"Where are you?" I ask. (And yes, I included the question mark. Even in SMS's my punctuation is exemplary).
About 30 seconds later I got a message in reply. "Where are you?" In my head I automatically put the emphasis on the "You" of the sentence. So I replied. It wasn't until Jason told me that he was also in the lobby that I realised what was going on.
Shut up. I'd just flow from Brisbane. I was cold and wet. I had a new phone.
Jason, Mark and Michele (hello) turned up a few minutes later anyways.
The con was great-- a nice little cosy thing with great guests and interesting panels. Anne Bishop and Marianne De Pierres were two of the former. I already knew Marianne (www.mariannedepierres.com) so obviously she was a lot of fun and Anne Bishop was friendly and thoughtful and seemed willing to sit around chatting to anyone. There were panels on world building, cloning, the future of sport, running cons, sex and love in fantasy (or something)... Lot's of stuff.
And there was lots of good hot chocolate and great pavlova. Mmmm... pavolva.
Outside the Con' was a lot of fun as well. I walked down to the city centre one day, following the river/bay/harbour/whatever it is. It was a long walk but very nice. In the city were the Salamanca Markets, where I ran into some women from the flight down who were part of the Miniatures and Doll Houses Convention. I found a great music shop called 'Music Without Borders' where hard to get CD's, jazz CD's, and classical CD's were all piled on top of each other in the racks. There were sound tracks and boxed sets and world music from countries I haven't even heard of.
Everyone who walked in (apart from me) seemed to know everyone else.
"Hey, Bill," one guy said to the owner as he entered.
"Hello, Ben," Bill replied. (The names may have been changed to protect the addicted.)
And a third man walked in. "Hey Bill," he said, taking his hands from his trench coat pockets and adjusting his hat so it was shading his face. "Hello Ben."
"Morning, Joe."
"Hi, Joe."
I'm telling you, they all knew each other and the guy really was wearing a trench coat (the fact that it was raining and freezing cold may have had something to do with it.) They were like a secret society of men who wouldn't be seen dead near a Delta Goodrem CD.
Back at the hotel I slept in two different rooms on the last two nights. Thanks Kate and Rob for the first night and Jason and Michele the second. The horror stories about old ladies on crutches were especially amusing... (You probably had to be there, but suffice to say they were based on fact.)
Tuesday morning and I picked up my camper van.
First thing I did, was drive up Mt Wellington. If you've read about my Melbourne trip you may remember me saying that Phillip Island was cold. Nuh. On Mt Wellington you could lean into the wind and die frozen at a 45deg angle. It was cold.
After that I headed westwards. At Mt Fields Nation Park I ran into a bunch of people from the con. Carey was taking Anne Bishop and a few other on a tour and happened to end up there at exactly the same time as me. That was their story anyway. I think they were just the first of two sets of stalkers I had in Tasmania... It was about midafternoon when I got there and I wandered up and saw a waterfall. It was pretty good. Some water falling over some rocks. Then I continued on to Lake St Clair.
It was five o'clock when I got there and pitch black. And freezing cold. And Derwent Bridge? I thought it was a town. I thought there'd be something there. There was a pub. And some cabins. And a petrol station... that closed at six o'clock. Tasmanians are crazy (that's for Launz, though he won't be reading).
I fumbled around in the dark at the camping ground at the National Park. I was mainly trying to find a flat spot to park the campervan. I could have any one that I wanted. Everyone else was sensible enough to be somewhere else. Did I mention that it was cold?
I used the public phone to call my parents. They'd been trying to call me for a few days but I was always busy, or about to be busyt. Or whatever. They were going to call me again that night but I had no signal for my mobile phone (bloody Tasmania.) And of course, while I was standing there talking and freezing, it started to rain... It wasn't a long phone call.
It was still raining in the morning. I went on the shortest walk available. It was about 3km. I saw the lake-- which was really nice-- and the end of the Overland Track. I took lots of photos of the lake and trees and.. stuff.
I left for Strahan about lunch time-- it was still raining so it wasn't a lot of point waiting around. I went via Queenstown where I bought my first Tasmanian souvenir. Strahan was really good. I took lots of photos and listened on the radio as NSW won the second State of Origin. Woo hoo.
The next day, I went back to Queenstown and from there... back to Strahan. I did catch the train though. A little steam thing (half the way anyway) going through the mountains and following the King River. Or the Qieen River. Or... something like that. It was pretty good. Though most of it was just rain forests and mountains. Apparently the train crosses 40 bridges in 35 km, but seeing you can see most of them it doesn't mean a whole heap. Some pretty rugged country out there though. There could be Tasmanian Tigers everywhere and we wouldn't necessarily know.
Well, that's the end of the first episode. I'll get to the rest later. Maybe
I discovered the other day that someone (other than Heather-- hello Heather) was reading my blog. Huh! What do you know... So, I thought I'd try giving it another go. And the strange thing is, I find myself in a very similar position to last time I was doing this. In fact the only thing that has changed since then is my job. I was just at a Convention and am in the middle of a road trip and am soon to take part in EnVision. All like last time, if I remember correctly. But let me start at the start.
For a few months before Christmas, I knew I was going to be quitting my job. I'd had enough. I was ready to slash my wrists or (better yet) someone else's. But if I hung on just a little bit longer I'd get a pay rise in the new year which meant my 12 weeks holidays that I had owing would be worth more and... There were quite a few good reasons why I was hanging around.
But then, one day, I decided I'd had enough. I was sitting at my desk at about 9:30 in the morning, just recovering from the usual rush of phone calls, and I started to write m resignation letter on the spot. Christmas eve, I'd be gone.
That was in the middle of November. And the next six weeks were the slowest, worst of all the horrible weeks I'd had. I think I've said this before-- the people were great (except for my arch nemesis) but listening to people complain all day about products I wasn't interested in? Not good. Some of the customers were great-- call in every couple of weeks (I knew addresses off by heart) and not take their all too understandable frustration out on me. Those are the people I liked to help.
Anyway, November and December were the slowest months ever. They took about forty-seven days each. Check the record books, I'm positive they'll back me up on that.
Near the end I found a job washing cars at the airport. I'm still there-- turn up, do my work, go home-- but am thinking of finding something new when I get back. If I can.
And speaking of leaving, my arch nemesis got fired a couple of weeks after I left. Huh! And he stole a work van. Seriously.
The boss told him he was fired and could leave straight away.
Nemesis said, "Cool, can I get a lift home?"
The boss came back with, "No, we're all too busy."
So Nemesis took a van and drove home in it.
The boss was going to call the police but somebody talked him out of it. And rightly so. Even the guy who got fired for being an idiot and missing 42 days of work in his 3 month probation period (Ok, slight exaggeration. It was about 10.) Where was I? Oh, yeah, that guy got a lift home. Now, I believe in winning, but I don't believe in stooping to the petty tactics of the opposition.
A member of my cricket team once told me-- after the game-- that, while he was umpiring (players sometimes have to umpire while their own team is batting as there aren't enough proper umpires) there was an LBW (leg before wicket for the uninitiated-- contentions most of the time anyway) he gave 'not out' when it was actually out. I replied that if I found out he ever cheated again he wouldn't play in my team. Which was stupid, I should have gotten rid of him on the spot-- obviously he would just avoid telling me in the future, but anyway. The point is (yes, there is a point)-- I play to win but I play fair.
But back to the story... I quit my job and have been washing cars and writing novels ever since. Not a lot else. Apart from watching movies. About 35 at the cinema already this year. (Did I tell you about my list? It's pretty impressive... If you're impressed by things like that.)
And I signed up for Thylacon at Canberra last year, so obviously I was going. And I decided that if I was flying all the way to Tasmania then I might as well get my money's worth.
A week before, Mark, my roomie, sent me an email saying he was only staying 3 nights, despite the fact that, for about six months, 5 nights of room had been booked. I couldn't afford two nights on my own, but it was too late to do anything, so I pack my bags and decided to work it out later. I love plans like that.
I got to the hotel pretty early and sent myself a couple of SMS's asking where I was. Seriously. You see, I dropped my mobile phone in water two days before setting off. My mobile phone did not appreciate it at all. So I had to buy a new one. It's small and yellow, though not a lot like a corn kernel. (What? My feet are cold, give me a break!)
Anyway, before I left Brisbane I exchanged a couple of SMS's with Jason N (here after referred to as Jason). I noticed that, though he was in my sim card, his name was not coming up on my screen to say he was the one who'd sent the message. So I extracted a number from the last of the messages and attached his name to it in the sim. The problem was, apparently, I extracted the "To" number instead of the "From" number. ie, I got my own number and didn't even look at it.
So, here I am, sitting in the foyer of the hotel in Hobart, not sure whether to wait for Jason and Mark (my roomie-- whose number I didn't have) or go for a bit of a wander. I decided to send Jason an SMS to see where he was.
"Where are you?" I ask. (And yes, I included the question mark. Even in SMS's my punctuation is exemplary).
About 30 seconds later I got a message in reply. "Where are you?" In my head I automatically put the emphasis on the "You" of the sentence. So I replied. It wasn't until Jason told me that he was also in the lobby that I realised what was going on.
Shut up. I'd just flow from Brisbane. I was cold and wet. I had a new phone.
Jason, Mark and Michele (hello) turned up a few minutes later anyways.
The con was great-- a nice little cosy thing with great guests and interesting panels. Anne Bishop and Marianne De Pierres were two of the former. I already knew Marianne (www.mariannedepierres.com) so obviously she was a lot of fun and Anne Bishop was friendly and thoughtful and seemed willing to sit around chatting to anyone. There were panels on world building, cloning, the future of sport, running cons, sex and love in fantasy (or something)... Lot's of stuff.
And there was lots of good hot chocolate and great pavlova. Mmmm... pavolva.
Outside the Con' was a lot of fun as well. I walked down to the city centre one day, following the river/bay/harbour/whatever it is. It was a long walk but very nice. In the city were the Salamanca Markets, where I ran into some women from the flight down who were part of the Miniatures and Doll Houses Convention. I found a great music shop called 'Music Without Borders' where hard to get CD's, jazz CD's, and classical CD's were all piled on top of each other in the racks. There were sound tracks and boxed sets and world music from countries I haven't even heard of.
Everyone who walked in (apart from me) seemed to know everyone else.
"Hey, Bill," one guy said to the owner as he entered.
"Hello, Ben," Bill replied. (The names may have been changed to protect the addicted.)
And a third man walked in. "Hey Bill," he said, taking his hands from his trench coat pockets and adjusting his hat so it was shading his face. "Hello Ben."
"Morning, Joe."
"Hi, Joe."
I'm telling you, they all knew each other and the guy really was wearing a trench coat (the fact that it was raining and freezing cold may have had something to do with it.) They were like a secret society of men who wouldn't be seen dead near a Delta Goodrem CD.
Back at the hotel I slept in two different rooms on the last two nights. Thanks Kate and Rob for the first night and Jason and Michele the second. The horror stories about old ladies on crutches were especially amusing... (You probably had to be there, but suffice to say they were based on fact.)
Tuesday morning and I picked up my camper van.
First thing I did, was drive up Mt Wellington. If you've read about my Melbourne trip you may remember me saying that Phillip Island was cold. Nuh. On Mt Wellington you could lean into the wind and die frozen at a 45deg angle. It was cold.
After that I headed westwards. At Mt Fields Nation Park I ran into a bunch of people from the con. Carey was taking Anne Bishop and a few other on a tour and happened to end up there at exactly the same time as me. That was their story anyway. I think they were just the first of two sets of stalkers I had in Tasmania... It was about midafternoon when I got there and I wandered up and saw a waterfall. It was pretty good. Some water falling over some rocks. Then I continued on to Lake St Clair.
It was five o'clock when I got there and pitch black. And freezing cold. And Derwent Bridge? I thought it was a town. I thought there'd be something there. There was a pub. And some cabins. And a petrol station... that closed at six o'clock. Tasmanians are crazy (that's for Launz, though he won't be reading).
I fumbled around in the dark at the camping ground at the National Park. I was mainly trying to find a flat spot to park the campervan. I could have any one that I wanted. Everyone else was sensible enough to be somewhere else. Did I mention that it was cold?
I used the public phone to call my parents. They'd been trying to call me for a few days but I was always busy, or about to be busyt. Or whatever. They were going to call me again that night but I had no signal for my mobile phone (bloody Tasmania.) And of course, while I was standing there talking and freezing, it started to rain... It wasn't a long phone call.
It was still raining in the morning. I went on the shortest walk available. It was about 3km. I saw the lake-- which was really nice-- and the end of the Overland Track. I took lots of photos of the lake and trees and.. stuff.
I left for Strahan about lunch time-- it was still raining so it wasn't a lot of point waiting around. I went via Queenstown where I bought my first Tasmanian souvenir. Strahan was really good. I took lots of photos and listened on the radio as NSW won the second State of Origin. Woo hoo.
The next day, I went back to Queenstown and from there... back to Strahan. I did catch the train though. A little steam thing (half the way anyway) going through the mountains and following the King River. Or the Qieen River. Or... something like that. It was pretty good. Though most of it was just rain forests and mountains. Apparently the train crosses 40 bridges in 35 km, but seeing you can see most of them it doesn't mean a whole heap. Some pretty rugged country out there though. There could be Tasmanian Tigers everywhere and we wouldn't necessarily know.
Well, that's the end of the first episode. I'll get to the rest later. Maybe
