Spiders, Kiwis, Butch and Sausage

Aus is home for us and I fucking love the place. Some of the local flora and fauna can be a tad feisty but that only adds to the fun. Don’t like it? Please feel free to politely go away!

Spiders are feisty creatures, the males get a rough wake up call after the wedding night shenanigans, brings a whole new level of demand to the ‘was that good for you’ question.

Spider in this case has 2 legs, a big, beefy torso and Merv Hughes style facial decoration. We arrived in Coowonga in the middle of nowhere. Just a big bloody field where you can park your horse overnight for a princely $10. They also chuck in a fire barrel and a heap of hardwood to keep the friendly midges away. Spider’s function here revolves mainly around building stuff, mending stuff and annoying climate change whingers by chopping down hardwood trees for firewood. Aeroguard and several hundred degrees of fire pit did little to prevent hordes of airborne terrorists from joining in the fun. There is also a pretty scary looking longhorn bull wandering around the paddock as a gentle reminder not to use the bush as your own personal dunny. There is a dunny here from a bygone era, views and airflow awesome, plumbing and privacy need some attention. Maybe something for the Spider to have a squizz at. Spent 3 nights in the company of the Spider before blood levels started getting a bit low, took a dignified retreat to the chemist for antihistamines and pastures new.

Rosedale Pub is also in the middle of nowhere, owned and run by a couple of Kiwis, Dee and Mike. At 2pm on a Sunday arvo, the place was noisy and full to the brim with people getting on with some fairly professional levels of beverage consumption! The young lass in the kitchen got a tad lippy with the owner at lunch so we decided to have some fun. Slid the chef’s outfit on and popped the knife roll under my arm before marching into the kitchen as the new head chef. 10 minutes of Gordon Ramsay style abuse later we let the cat out of the bag and returned to the bar. Just in time to avoid the flying tongs and jug of icy water that landed square in the boss’s grinning face. Job done! Turns out we had also agreed to attend a BBQ the next day with a couple of other local identities, Butch and Sausage.

Butch and Sausage also live in a field in the middle of nowhere. Butch in a bloody big hanger with all of his boaty/farm toys. Sausage in a hut on stilts that slides on and off $130 grands worth of souped up truck. We have a dear friend called Sausage from school. Communal showers are part of the whole boarding school experience where dropped soap generally stays on the floor! This Sausage earned his name from the barbecued variety. After a particularly intense drinking session he had a bit of a tactical chunder, regurgitating an entire, unchewed pork sword for people’s enjoyment. Sausage is also well off the ADHD scale, taking great pleasure in racing the girls around the paddock and in the air with 4WD trucks without spilling a drop! A compound bow got an airing along with an FPV drone and firearms. Firearms, compound bow and 4WD vehicles somehow survived along with all participants, the drone has seen better days. Much fun had, back to the pub for a nightcap and Nurofen!

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