In the early 15th Century, a bloke called Michelangelo got persuaded by a few kiddy fiddling sorts to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It took him about four years. Fu(k that! It took me a couple of weeks to tackle the ceilings in Cooroy and that was plenty without any pre/post mass shenanigans in the vestry! With Jackie meanwhile, we have also attacked the inside doors. A hefty scrub with the orbital sander, some undercoat, a couple of layers of Dulux love and the rather nasty, faeces green has been upgraded to dunny paper white. To compliment the doors, the walls of this place looked a bit like the inside of a 1980’s pub. That grubby, inconsistent yellow from years of punters smashing out packets of smokes over a few pints. Ours was either sh!t paint or applied by a few blokes serving an exclusion order from the local watering hole. Regardless, it’s starting to look awesome and clean. I on the other hand look like a hairy, human paint brush. Had a chap come round and spray the garage door and the front fence has been given the good news with left over decking oil.
Away from painting, pickleball is still a hoot. Jax had a bit of mindblock, electing for a leap/aerial smash combo before engaging in any realistic warmup stuff. Pulled a muscle in her lower back, game over! A visit to the local village healer returned some mobility before an especially vicious Pilates session undid the good work! That will be a few more days off the pickleball court, a few more visits to the herbs and needles woman and a postponed horse riding session. Personally, not sure which is the lesser of these two evils, horse riding or being poked with long needles. Not planning on engaging with either!
Our seemingly unstoppable journey towards becoming Queenslanders continues. Popped into the local SES for a shoofty and an induction session one evening. Can’t realistically see either of us frolicking around on roofs, dragging tarpaulins in the pi$$ing rain, but there are plenty of terra firma based activities that we can take part in. Chainsaws anyone? Turns out that our NSW driver licenses are about as welcome here as farting in a lift, just not as funny. A quick trip to the nearest Transport and Main Roads mob, a couple of towns away results in a somewhat unnerving surrender of said licenses and the issue of bits of paper masquerading as replacements. I kinda needed that for Tassie! Fortunately, the digital version works a day or so later.
The bird wars continue on the veranda. There are several fronts to this conflict. Firstly discouraging the Sulphur Crested Airborne destruction units, then the noisy, bird table tipping currawongs. Turns out that neither of these species appreciate having small stones pelted at them. Less than zero chance of any accuracy over 20 metres away but they took the hint. Like many conflicts, the enemy works out your weaknesses. The unwelcome avian species now sitting in the trees just outside stone pelting range, squawking loudly and waiting for skirmish opportunities. Catapults are legal up here! Turns out the birds don’t like these either. Birds 1:Bear 2. I doubt however that this is the final score.
Our newly renovated deck has hosted its first guests for dinners and lunches. Had an uninvited kookaburra land on the table, looking eagerly at the roast pork on our plates. Next thing we know is the cheeky, fat fu(ker launches down the table, removes an impressive chunk of pig from a plate and heads for the trees. Could have been worse, could have been my plate! Looking forward to plenty more of these and plenty more excuses to fire up the wood burner. Xmas in July locked in. Collecting and burning pine cones is becoming a bit of an obsession. Even found a big wooden bed on the side of the road looking for a new home. Not sure if it’s previous owners considered this to be a few rounds with Mr Chainsaw and Mr Wood Burner, regardless, onto the roof of the car it went and home it came.
Motorhome games in the Tasmanian Winter up next!
