More Australian Wildlife

This was on the news this morning.

A possum makes its way into a bakery at night and eats its bodyweight in danishes.

This is what the bakery owner found in the morning....

My initial thoughts.

1) At least the bloody thing isn't in my roof.
2) At least the bloody thing isn't raiding the bins in Fitzroy Gardens (a great place for possum hunting at twilight - I take foreign visitors to go see the ferocious possums - its a must...)
3) At least it's not being let loose by Glen Waverley, who traps them, takes pity on them and sets them free.
4) At least foreign students in Carlton aren't mistaking the poor beast for a lost cat.
5) Kudos to the bloody thing for doing something I wish I could do - raid a bakery, eat to my hearts content and nearly pass out from the joy of it all.

In my next life I want to come back as this possum.

Not this possum.

I Tri-ed

Well, the triathlon is over. And I tried. Not only did I try, I actually did it!

After a month of so-called training, the day came. I say training because I was a bit half-hearted about the whole training thing. I did put in the laps in the pool and ride the bike and go for run, but I wouldn't say I was regimented about the training. Making matters a bit difficult, I started to freak about the swim leg. Shove me in a pool and I can go a kilometre in under half an hour. The sea is a different matter. I'm happy to play in the ocean - body surf, dive under the waves, that sort of stuff - but swim - if it's not dead calm? Nah. Thankfully heavy rain over the last week left Port Philip Bay in a state unsuitable for swimming, so the 400 metre swim was converted into a 800 metre sand run. I was happy - but looking at the bay this morning, flat, glassy and not a breath of wind, I half wish I got to do the swim. If it wasn't for the noxious bacteria infesting the bay, it would have been perfect.

I've discovered that triathlons take organisation and time. They take a bit of inventiveness too. The laces in my runners were changed to elastic laces so they didn't get caught in the bike chain. I was considering running with my swimmers under my triathlon get up with a bra underneath too - then thought of the possible chafe factor. I was thinking about leaving a protein bar with my bike. I didn't have any idea what to expect, but this is not a bad thing. Having no expectations made the day fun.

Yesterday I had to drop off my bike and meet my team. The old consultancy put me with two others to make the team of three. Our first competitor, Rajni, is like me, an endorphin junkie but not serious about her triathlons, our third runner, Annie, is a bit more hard core and has done a few triathlons. As this was a relay event, I was to be the second runner, which suited me fine.

Only problem with yesterday - other than it was tipping down, I had to be at Georgie's Hens Party at 2 p.m. We'd arranged to meet to drop off the bikes and get the kit at 12.30 on the other side of town -  really tough call.

So I fronted with the bike at the appointed time, bike in tow, wearing a face full of makeup, a cocktail dress, fishnet stockings and heels...Making matters worse, something was going down with the back brake so I had to find a nice bloke to fix it. I've discovered that a make up, a short dress, heels and stockings can get things fixed quick. A nice man had a look and all was well in two minutes. Five minute later, the bike was parked in its designated spot and I made my way North, hands covered in grease but at least my stockings weren't laddered.

Georgie's Hens Party was great - though drinking was out for me because of the race in the morning. We went for an afternoon of burlesque lessons at a bar in Fitzroy, which even when sober, was terrific fun. After holing up at a bar called Naked for Satan (going back there) and having a lovely dinner at a Middle Eastern cafe, I was ready for bed. Being near a friend's place, I gave him a call and went round, hoping that his good nature would take pity on this now damp and bedraggled waif and give her a ride home.

No such luck. His car battery was flat (and could I come around the following day to give him a jump start). He put me in a cab after a chat and a coffee. I was home and in bed, sober, by 10.30.

This morning, got up, had my protein shake and coffee and waited for Jonella to pick me up. Running second  and leaving my bike helmet at the triathlon site and with Rajni not starting until 7.50 - I wouldn't be starting until about nine. It was just like preparing for a run, except for the second time ever somebody has taken me to the event. It meant a lot, especially as Jonella wasn't competing and she could have been home in bed.

Jonella deserves a medal. She's a brilliant support crew!

"You know something, you don't look that bad in lycra," was her first comment.

Nobody looks good in lycra. I mean nobody. There were a lot of men looking very exposed there today. Tri suits are about as flattering as muffin top jeans and socks with sandals.

Arriving at Elwood, I had about twenty minutes to spare. I found an old Tin Can, String and Whistle colleague who was also running for the consultancy. I got him to write my race number on my arm and a number 2 on  my knee - in permanent marker. See, for some reason, they like to have your number all over you, your belly number, hat sticker and wrist band aren't enough - something about security and easy identification in case you drown.

At five to nine, I went to the transition area and just after nine, Rajni arrived - handed me the ankle tag, which I secured, and I was on my way.

Okay, running deep sand is not something I want to do again in a hurry, but I can see how it can get you fit really quickly. The 800 metres went quickly even though I was taking it slowly - aware the last time I ran on uneven ground I did my knee.

Collected the bike about ten minutes later after going through what seemed to be a similar distance of transition lanes, shoved a saturated bike hat on my head and made my way out to the road.

Did I tell you that I like to cycle? Love it. Don't know how this came about, but I love to ride the bike. Okay, I currently have Jonella's old clunker of a mountain bike. It feels like it weighs about twenty kilograms when I lug it up the stairs at home, but it does the job. It isn't a fast bike, but it's adequate and that is all that I need. I made the decision to enjoy this leg of the race. No point busting a gut - the bike doesn't go that fast - it's like riding a sofa. So I did the ten kilometres at a respectable pace, watching all the hoons go flat out on their bikes that probably cost thousands of dollars.

I loved the bike leg. Riding from Elwood to near on Port Melbourne and back again, on the road - wonderful!  It's something I hope to keep up for a bit. Jonella's letting me keep the bike for another month and I'll try and ride to work twice a week for the next month. It's something I never thought I'd enjoy. I'd even consider getting a bike of my own but other than my spare room, there's nowhere to store it.

On arrival back at Elwood, the bike was once again deserted and I was out on the road. Four kilometres in the humidity. Again, not the world's best run, but I came in about 25 minutes - which is fine considering what I'd been doing for the last 45 minutes.

Annie was waiting for me in the transition holding area. The ankle tag came off and I was done. An hour and 14 minutes later.

I don't feel proud of myself that often - but today felt really good. I look at the effort put in - I did feel a bit fat and a bit unfit, then again, I know what I am at my peak and I know what I have to do to get back there.

But I'm very proud of myself for participating and getting through this in a not too bad a time. I didn't take this on to be the best of the fastest - I just had to get through it and participate. It's a good feeling. It's even more fun doing this without the pressures of timing myself or being somebody's pace person.

Would I do it again. Probably. I'm not saying never. I'll keep up the swimming, going with Kitt on Saturday mornings when we can - and I have a few runs coming up so I have to really kick in the training now.

They opened the bike compound for collection nearly two hours later after the last competitor started their run leg. It was put the queue looked like a throng going into a concentration camp. The queue moved slowly - tired, withered, lycra clad corporates waiting to find their rides. Not being one for queues, I hung back at the corporate tent and waited for the crowd to thin a bit.

Getting home was the next chore. Jonella had stuff to do and I assured her I'd be fine, so I trained the bike back to a local station and rode the rest of the way. Happy.

A few hours on, after a trip out to the Dandenongs for a massage and facial (bliss) and a visit out to my friend's to get his car jump started, I'm home.

I'm not too sore. I'm not that tired. And I'm still really proud of myself - and wondering what the next challenge might be.

Also wondering how to get the numbers off my knee and arm.

Photo February Day Twenty Nine

Fountain, The Alcazar, Seville, 2010

My last photo for February. Ah. No more trawling through the external hard drive late into the night. No more pressure. Yay. Actually, I've rather enjoyed this effort - it's been fun.

Normal blogging resumes in the next few days.

I want to leave you with a peaceful photo, because at the moment, all I want is a bit of peace, and another day to the week where I can clean my tip of a flat and sleep in and read.

Hope you've enjoyed Photo February. I've enjoyed not writing about my day-to-day life for a month, reflecting, looking back and revisiting some of the wonderful places of been and experiences I've had over the last few years. I've looked over the photos from the last month and I realise just how blessed I've been.

Of this fountain. It was in the gardens of the Alcazar. I stared at it for a long time. What a place to sit and refect. Oh what it must be like to be able to take your book here and read in this pavillion. What would it be like on a hot day, listening to the trickle of the water, catching the odd breeze, glass of sangria nearby, when you want to stretch your legs there are acres of gardens to enjoy just outside.

This little place is part of my idea of heaven.

Photo February - Day Twenty Eight

Baby Koala, Healesville, 2008

I love marsupials.

This was taken on a day trip to Healesville with a friend, his mum and nephew who were visiting from the Netherlands. It was a lovely day, we got to look at a lot of animals, but this little critter stole my heart.

That and the 'vogelbekdieren'. Only the Dutch will their own word for platypus. Meaning "bird beak animal" it does make sense, but still - It's a bloody platypus. Call it a bloody platypus.

However, getting  a photo of these elusive waterborne critters is next to impossible. They are nocturnal. They are very cute. And they hate camera flashes, so you don't do it. But they're great. Really, really, really cute. A bit like waterborne meerkats.

The next cutest animal we saw on the day was this baby koala.

Don't let koalas fool you. They may look cute. But they don't smell too good. They scratch. They have a tendency to piss on you. And get chlamydia. And they don't do very much.

But gee they're pretty to look at.

Photo February Day Twenty Seven

From the kitchen window, 2006-2012

I make jokes about living on the crappest street in the best suburb. This is not too far from the truth as my street is semi-industrial abnd my kitchen window overlooks a fish processing plant. This, however, is not the worst street in my suburb - I'm told that the street that contains the needle exchange is worse. And where I used to live near the old Channel Nine studios was not that good as you got The Footy Show yobs trawling for parking once a week. There's also another street on another part of the suburb where there are shoes over the power lines at regular intervals which scream, "Buy your drugs here!" My street is not like that, though we do see cops raid the house just down the road regularly - the stench of marijuana and chemicals is pretty apparent. We find used syringes around the place from time to time - but living inner city for nearly twenty years, I'm used to that. That's what rubber gloves and newspaper is for.

Okay, I'm blase to some of the perils of inner city living - junkies are one of those perils - but if they don't disturb me, I don't disturb them. If you don't look too hard, you don't see it.

Like the fish factory. Other than throb,beep and hum of the odd forklift early in the morning, it doesn't bother me. It doesn't smell. They don't operate it in the evening or on weekends. Everything is frozen. It's fine. It keeps the rent down.

On the good side of things, sometimes when I look out the kitchen window, this is what I see.

Yes, I know the window needs washing - but waiting for the body corporate to get the window washer in is like waiting for Tony Abbott to get a social conscience.Never going to happen.The ugly net curtain has gone too - replaced with a decent wooden blind.

Sometimes I can overlook the fish factory for much lovelier things.

Photo February - Day Twenty Six

Ruin, Pearson's Bridge, Co Cork, Ireland, 2006

Visiting Blarney and Barney in 2006, we spent a day visiting what Blarney refers to as "old shit".

This was one of the bits of "old shit" we saw. I just prettied up the background because it was a grey day and it makes the ruin stand out a bit more.

We had a great day. The first stop was to the Jameson's factory where we had a tour of the site with a very corny tour guide. This was followed by an Irish whisky tasting, which is always fun. Then we went down to Bantry Bay for a look around, then back to Cork via this place - which was pretty magic.

I love Ireland an have been there on many occasions. It was the one place I could visit freely outside of the UK when I was living as an illegally in Britain, only because you didn't need a passport to get there. The people are lovely, the guinness flows freely and for somebody who was raised in an arid country, I can never get enough of the green of the countryside, the music in the pubs or SuperMac's garlic fries. And there are no snakes there either because St Patrick drove them all away ages ago.

Of the places I'd return to again - Galway and Glendalough stick out in my mind, though I'm very fond of Dublin - even if I did end up in the Mater hospital with suspected pneumonia on one trip.

Of this picture, the other thing it reminds me of is the poster I used to have on my wall at college. A large poster of "The Unforgetable Fire", the U2 album. This is not the castle used on the cover short, but it brings back memories from what now appears to be a simpler time.

Photo February Day Twenty Five

Bikes in Utrecht, The Netherlands, 2010

Until a few weeks ago, I hadn't been on a bike for twenty years, so landing in the Netherlands was an eye opener. EVERYBODY rides a bike around he place. Yes, they do have the the luck of having one hill in the country which is the size of a speed hump and they do have an infrastructure that gives bikes the right of way, but there are nine million bike riders on the roads there and I don't think I saw one person wearing a helmet over there... maybe not having the threat of a $154 fine for not wearing one is enough to keep them off their heads.

The other thing about Dutch bikes, they look comfortable. They have a nice padded seat to keep your tush happy. You sit upright, none of this stooping over nonsense. They have mud guards (spatborden according to Glen Waverley - essential he says - but I think there is innuendo involved with what he's saying) and sensible handlebars and everybody looks happy when they ride a bike. People have old fashioned lights and baskets and bags attached. They look fun. Though I'm not sure how I'd go cycling over wet cobblestones... or in sleet...

Bikes are just a way of life here. It's mad, but it's lovely. There are even bike parks near all the railway stations where thousands of bikes are parked during the day - like Australia's multi-story car parks, they have them for bikes.

If I had a real girlie bike like these ones I'd probably ride one more - that and I'd get rid of the cars on the road.