One

Yesterday was exactly one year since we arrived in Adelaide, blinking against the glaring sun and cloudless sky. I suppose time will tell if it’s been a good idea, whatever the verdict, it’s been eventful.

The baby would fit into the eventful category, 20 weeks now and all looking good. Mandy is just settling into it all after a couple of months of continuously throwing up.

The house we move into on 11th December is another feature. It is in a lovely spot, set in 1000m2 of trees overlooking a valley of eucalypt forest. And although it is tucked away in the hills, it is only five miles from the city centre and we can see the sea from the bottom of the garden.

On the other hand, there is no mains water, no sewers and it is in a very high risk bush fire area. Fire is a huge worry in this part of town and in preparation I have been on a fire prevention course this week. To be honest, it has made me feel worse. I was vaguely worried before, now I am terrified.

Bush fires here are particularly scary, even more so after a four year drought which has left the forests with several inches of bone dry floor cover. It doesn’t take much to set that off and when it goes, it really goes. We had a lightning storm last week, the next day 60 fires were burning across the state.

The street we live on burnt to the ground in 1983 in the worst fires recorded in Australia, the footage is bloody scary.

But lots of other people put up with it and a friend of Mandy’s lives on our street, she lost her house on Ash Wednesday but hasn’t moved. Like she says, fire is just a part of living in Australia.

As are snakes, the sort of snakes which have been biting lots of people round here in the past few weeks and are abundant in our new neighbourhood. These brown snakes have accounted for one bloke already this month and have put several others in hospital.

Even putting aside the little one and the house it has been an eye opening twelve months, and there has been no bigger eye opener than my father’s revelation of the highlight of his holiday over here.

Despite travelling through some of the most magnificent scenery I have seen, wrangling deadly snakes, patting koala bottoms, fine wine and the prettiest cricket ground in the world, his desert island moment was getting around a pie floater.

For the uninitiated among you, a pie floater is of the same cultural ilk as jellied eels. It is simply a (mechanically retrieved) meat pie in a bowl of mushy peas. But it can only be eaten at the pie cart, an enigmatic catering van like something from Hogwarts, staffed by a lady of comfortable dimensions who likes men with a healthy appetite.

But all this is a mere sideshow. The cricket has started and after all the anticipation, as you will all no doubt be aware, Australia are giving us a bath. I’m sure it sticks in your throat a bit, but Jeez it’s hard work copping the flak over here; the whole country is full square behind not just beating England, but rubbing our noses in the dirt.

It is hard to explain the gusto with which every opportunity to ‘bag the Poms’ is seized by a nation drooling unattractively for revenge. After day one of the first test, people I had never spoken to went out of their way to smirk at our woeful bowling and lack of ‘ticker’ in not picking Monty.

Every TV presenter passes some comment about our gutless (upto today) efforts, all wearing an irritatingly smug grin. Even multinational firms like Ford are pushing a promotion called ‘Tonk A Pom’, I think the idea is that you get a ball with an English face on it, then hit it as hard and as far as you can. If you can bear to look, click here.

Every other ad consists of a grinning baggy green cap cut with footage of Brett Lee shattering English stumps. The beer ads are priceless though. The number one beer, VB, which is a cold and tasteless bottle of tat, has declared this series ‘The Battle of the Tashes’ (clever play on words for an Aussie) and has launched a whole series of promotions based on cricketers sporting lush facial hair.

Fronting this promotion up are Ian Botham, (representing one of the finest English tashes of recent years) and David Boon, a legend over here for his luxuriant mo and his record of 53 tinnies of XXXX on a flight from Sydney to London in 1989. He wasn’t a bad batsman either.

As well as blanket TV advertising, VB are pushing their dubious wares via a pair of talking ‘Boony & Beefy’ figures, mine arrived today after I sent off the tokens earned by drinking some VB. The things I do for cheap novelty.

The plan is that you put the cricket on TV, put the figures next to the set and watch the game with Boony and Beefy making comments every now and then. These are sent via radio signal and generally made up from witty banter such as;

Beefy: “Chuck us a VB Boony”

Boony: “ No way, you’ll only drop it”

Ha bloody ha.

Apart from that Boony pipes up every 10 minutes with, “It’s a hot one, time for a VB I reckon”. Subtle huh?

Anyway, with pinpricks from every direction and a deflating start to the series, in the words of another Englishman spitting into the wind, I would love it if we beat them!

I’ll tell you more about the important stuff next time..

Cheers
M&W