Pirate Holiday

You know, sometimes even the captain of an immortal pirate fleet needs to get away and take a break. Given my several hundred years of service, I’ve decided to give myself a few months leave. My first mate, Johnson, should be able to take care of our land raiding for a while.

In the meantime, I’ve decided to come down to Victoria and see the sights. Of course, it’s no real surprise that I’d have car troubles while on holiday, because isn’t that just typical? As a result, today I got to meet the best mechanic in the Frankston area. Well, technically it was just one of his employees, but we had an interesting discussion anyway.

“G’day matie,” I said, trying out the local lingo. “I’m Cap’n Large, leader of the infamous pirate band Large’s Bigs. No doubt ye’ve heard of me?”

The boy, who stood behind a nearby counter, shook his head. “Are you one of those cosplayers I’ve heard so much about? Think my cousin’s in a cosplay group.”

“Arr, nay, I am no cosplayer! I’m a real pirate. Anyway, my car needs repairs, do you accept gold doubloons? Otherwise I can pay in credit.”

“Credit will be fine,” said the boy. “The boss is out at the moment. He’ll be back soon, but as the finest auto electrician around, he’s in high demand.”

I tapped my fingers rhythmically on the counter. “Aye, that’ll be fine. I can wait.”

We were both silent, standing awkwardly for a few moments. Eventually, the boy looked across the workshop and said, “So, what brings you to Frankston, Mr Large, was it?”

“That’s Cap’n Large to you. I didn’t go to pirate school for eight years just to be referred to as ‘mister’. I’m on holiday, leaving my driving fleet in the hands of my first mate. After hundreds of years without a break, you get kind of tired of the constant raiding and pillaging, you know? Even the vikings went on holiday from time to time.”

“Oh. Right.”

The boy didn’t say anything else, the whole time we waited for the mechanic. Eventually the boss arrived, fixed up my car, and now I can get on my way. Holiday, here I come.

Skyscraper Balustrade

I found Dr Pistachio on top of the tallest building in Melbourne, cowering behind a glass balustrade. Typical behaviour for a supervillain: act tough while your plan is going ahead, then pretend to be weak once it begins to fall apart. I only had thirty seconds to save the city. There was no time for games.

“Tell me where the leak is!” I yelled, over the howling winds above the city. “You madman, thousands of people will perish.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “What leak? I don’t want anybody to die. Please, Super Duper Man, don’t hurt me.”

He always does this. Tries to convince me that I’m the bad guy. But I’m not the one who filled the sewers of Melbourne with poisonous gas. “It’s over, Doctor,” I said, rising higher in the air and looking down on him. “Even the best glass balustrades near Melbourne won’t be able to save you.”

“Please, Super Duper Man, you have the wrong guy!” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Don’t you remember what the courts ruled? This is harassment and you’re supposed to stay away from me!”

I could only laugh. “The forged restraining order? You don’t think your devilish trickery can stop me, do you?” Lasers shot forth from my eyes, burning the piece of paper, its embers joining me in the sky.

This battle would be truly epic, once Dr Pistachio stopped playing an innocent fool. Yes, lots of skyscrapers across the city would be destroyed, but it would all be worth it. Besides, the commercial glazing industry would have work for months, repairing all the glass. Truly, it would be for the good of the city.

“If you don’t tell me where the lethal gas leak is, I’ll have to destroy everything you care about,” I said, clenching a fist.

Dr Pistachio looked over the balustrade, down to the ground a hundred stories below. With one swift movement, he threw himself at me. I responded quickly before he could unleash an evil machine to attack me. Grabbing the back of his shirt, I immobilized the villain and flew him to the nearest prison, where we could get the truth out of him.

Super Duper Man saves the day once more.

When She Talks

Quite an interesting discussion last night at the Futurist Club…or at least, it was until Emma hijacked the whole thing because she wanted to talk about fishing rod holders. She has an uncanny ability to hijack *anything* and turn it to her own topic of choice, even if it’s not her turn to speak. I was in mid-flow about how it’s going to be totally okay to live in the outback after they invent gigantic energy domes that protect people from sandstorms, so you can live there without fear of a wallaby or a scorpion being whipped up by desert winds and crashing into you on your way to work.

But then…Emma chimes in and says something about fishing boats, because the outback will be watered at the time due to weather manipulation, and then it came to fishing rod holders. That is, fishing rod holders of the FUTURE. Of course, Emma. If I wasn’t secretly, madly in love with you then I’d be quite cross that you’re interrupting me.

Emma loves to talk about fishing in the future, and how you’ll be able to have a snapper rack installed and it’ll be able to magnetise people to it in stormy weather, which will be quite common after the coming catastrophe. And I listen to her, and I’m SO bored because snapper racks and fishing rod holders that can recommend great fishing spots with integrated AI just aren’t interesting, but I want Emma to keep talking because she has such a beautiful voice, and the rare moments when she talks about something that ISN’T to do with stainless steel marine welding are the times when my soul is set ablaze.

I remember everything she’s ever said, you know. Every time she’s talked about the welding industry facing opposition from android duplicates of workers, every time she mentions bionic fish confusing the fishing industry…it all just sticks in my mind. And it’s frustrating! And I want to hear more…

-Harry

Taking Glass Seriously

Whats on and I got to the bakery at midday, knowing that we were far too late. Shouldn’t have stopped for that coffee, but you know how it is. Tell yourself you’ve got time, do some grocery shopping, check your watch and realise that you still have time, so you go for a game or three of bowling, then grab a coffee on the way. In theory, we should have made it there before the Glass Smashing Bandit, but Whatson’s ten-minute rant about how all of the glass balustrades within the Melbourne area look more like they’re made out of obsidian than glass made us late.

We received an anonymous tip at six in the morning, just as our office opened, telling us that the Glass Smashing Bandit was headed straight for a bakery in south Melbourne, to break their display window. He’s a slippery one, seeming to fall out of our grasp every time we come close. Will we ever catch this walking curse that has befallen our noble city? What if he thinks bigger, and begins to realise that there are entire skyscrapers made of glass, ready to be destroyed?

I’ve been thinking about this criminal, trying to work out his motivations. I figure he must have some sort of investment in the glass replacement industry, because why else would he give them so much work to do? It’s like how the Jester from the Baitman comics has stocks in a company that does building construction, which is why he destroys so many hospitals and banks.

Watson thinks he could just be a standard criminal with a taste for senseless violence, but that’s not possible. This guy is a criminal mastermind. How else would he keep avoiding us, even when we get tips as to his whereabouts? We’re dealing with a true genius here, possibly a graduate of the Supervillain Training Academy. He really needs to start taking this case seriously, because I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say the entire city is at risk here.

Indoor Birthday Party a Treat

kids party venue Bentleigh EastTo pin, or not to pin the tail on the donkey? That is the question. What a way for a kid to spend an afternoon – inflatables, ball pits, rock climbing, games…it’s the ideal kids party venue. Bentleigh East has a lot going for it but this takes the cake when it comes to kids.

Which is pretty much why I love the place and will hold every birthday there until they’re a) teenagers or b) dare to rise up against me. Every parent that’s ever tried to arrange a birthday party will understand me. Because parties are a nightmare. They aren’t fun affairs where everyone smiles and you hand out the cake without dropping it. They’re not smoothly oiled machines that can be effortlessly maneuvered around the birthday boy or girl’s mid-pinata smash tanty. And they certainly aren’t crowd pleasers. For every child gleefully smearing his or her face with neon coloured icing, there are four adults unhappy with the party planners.

One of the best discoveries I have made as a mum is that holding a birthday party at the play center makes you look great. . I’ve never ever seen a kid happy to leave an indoor play center. Bentleigh really does have the most outstanding play arena for kids to enjoy. It’s like pulling barnacles off a rock. Kids are guaranteed fun in a place like this, the red cheeks and breathlessness of it all is evidence of that. When they do stop playing, there’s a solid selection of classic party fare, coffee for the big people and a cake at the end, and everyone is happy. Best of all, you’re not left with the clean up. Better than best of all, the kids are so exhausted from all the fun, they fall asleep in the car and let you listen to that album you’ve been meaning to check out. There’s just no need to run yourself thin during a party, or in the time leading up to one. I say, pay it forward to a local business and let a play center take care of the honestly exhausting situation.

Children Are Everything. End of Story/Poem

indoor play centre MelbourneProse makes for a fine line between poetry and story, but I think I’ve successfully found a way to marry the two. Like pretty much everything I create, this one is to do with my children. They ARE my world, you know. The writing group may tell me to move onto something new, but I say no, because I’m a good mother. I’m interested in their lives, I want the best for them…and if that means they’re all I talk about, well so be it. I, personally, think they’re pretty interesting.

This latest piece of mine is called ‘Ode to the Ball Pit’, and I wrote it while I was at my local indoor play centre. Friendly staff in Melbourne are hard to come by, but they’re paramount for me when I’m looking for a play centre. That’s when I take a little bof of a break from my mothering duties and let my kids be free to discover. They climb over the frames, dive into the ball pit, slide down the slides, create imaginary worlds…they’re creative like their mum, clearly. Here’s an extract, because I feel the internet at large will appreciate my artistry far more than this group of neanderthals.

‘Ball pit. Ball pit. BALL PIT. So full of balls. Colourful balls, of smooth plastic. Diving. Diving. DIVING in the ball pit. Child is gone, child emerges. I drink my herbal tea, unconcerned.’

Alright, I don’t want to spoil the whole thing. I have an anthology book coming out soon and you need something to give your relatives for Christmas. If they like ball pits or kids birthday party venues, Canberra or the surrounding areas, would work. On sale in a few days, maybe!

I’ve given up taking this group’s opinion on anything really. I mean, half of them aren’t even parents, and even the ones who are talk about things other than their children. What’s the point of being a parent if you can’t even talk about your kids all the time?

-Alana

Moth vs Me: The final straw

termite control DandenongI’d just binned the fourth moth-eaten garment from my wardrobe in just a few weeks. I was fed up and contemplating a move when I remembered that my neighbour had made a recommendation for a  pest control company in Mornington.  I may sounds like I’m overreacting but it’s not like they’d eaten just any old woollen coat. I’m an antique clothing collector and dealer, and they ate right through the most incredible beaded head dress from a stage production my grandmother was in in the 1930s. This means war.

I have always had to be careful in my house, it was  susceptible to bugs as lots of the old houses in our street are, and like them, we had to resort to termite control. Dandenong has some wonderful living to offer, but the house I fell in love with was old, and somewhat compromised and nevertheless I took the risk and moved in knowing full well that moths and termites and rising damp could be my new enemies.

I’ve lost some incredible garments to silverfish and moths, so I guess getting onto pest control was something I’d been putting off because I desperately didn’t want to have to leave my house or move all my garments for a long period of time. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the treatment could be done in a day, and I made doubly sure to protect my important stuff in plastic bags.

I’ve recently purchased some really special pieces, and I’m desperate to keep them in great condition until the next auction comes up. I guess the curse of loving old things is that you have to love what comes with them, dust, fluff and the decorations of old age.

I won’t quit collecting because it’s such a huge art of my life- but at least now I don’t feel like my work is disappearing as soon as I find it. I love preserving these special pieces!

Remembering the Old Chandelier

designer lightingOla friends!

It’s pretty different here in Australia, but I really like it. All the forums I read said it was a country where people didn’t like those who weren’t like them, but I haven’t seen any of it. People seem really interested to hear that I’m from Mexico, especially when they hear that I’m studying home design.

Okay, so they do seem a bit TOO surprised when I say that, like they think I should be doing something more…stereotypical? Nah, it’s fine. I’m teaching my classmates Spanish, and they teach me Australian slang. It’s tougher than you’d think.

As for class, I’m learning loads there too. There’s a lot to know about home design, especially in Melbourne. They really like their designer lighting, for one thing. Oh, that’s, like…lights for you home, but ones that look really good. A bit like the ones that my grandpa had in his home; chandeliers, they call them. It’s funny, but that’s one of the things I remember the most about visiting grandpa. No one else had a home like him, but then, he had a good job. I think that was where I became interested in home design, even though things have really changed, and homes in Australia are totally different to his.

I’ve had a few assignments where we have to submit designs, and grandpa’s house has always stayed with me as I’ve been drawing. Of course, I’ve put in a lot of my own style. Done a bit of research on Melbourne’s commercial LED lighting and combined what’s in my head with some real facts! That’s what my friend always used to say.

“Your head is like a home. Only invite someone inside if you’re planning on entertaining.”

I think he’d be really proud, although he’d probably think all this lighting talk was stupid. That was my grandpa, alright. Always practical.

-Domenico

People Here Need Orthotics

arch supports CheltenhamHi Mom and Dad,

To answer your question…no. It’s not as hot here as everyone thinks. I think if I’d taken that job in Brisbane it’s be different, but Australia is so big, it has different climates depending on where you are, just like America. So Melbourne is like…Seattle, I think? Anyway, it’s winter here. Not much sun, loads of clouds.

Big spiders, though, so you can tick that one off the list. Apparently you see more of them in summer, so not looking forward to THAT. Oh, and people really love their sport, so tick that one off as well. The most common foot conditions in Melbourne are athlete’s foot and Achilles tendinitis, which seem to mostly be caused by that thing they call ‘football’. Oh, and netball. That’s really popular here, and it’s really hard on the feet and the ankles. Often we get people coming in with conditions bad enough that we can’t just give them orthotics and move them on. There are podiatry clinics around the place, like in Cheltenham and other places, so we send them there.

Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time some teenage girl came in having sprained her ankle real bad, or with some kind of fungal nail condition from just not treating her nails properly, I’d be able to buy an apartment in Manhattan. Sports is tough on the feet: fact. Gives me a bit of faith every time someone comes in and says they’re about to start playing Aussie football or netball or whatever, and they want orthotics to make sure their feet are fine.

So that’s life here at the moment. Handing out all kinds of custom orthotics, and sending them onto a podiatry clinic somewhere when it’s too bad. Some friends from work want me to join a local Aussie football league, which I’m still not sure about. But I know I‘m getting myself some arch supports before I go anywhere near that sport.

-Kyle

I’m Still Just the Net Guy

cricket netsHey family,

Australia suits me, I think. It’s been a big change, going from living with all of you in the English countryside to being by myself right in the heart of the city, but I think I’m starting to enjoy it. Things are open later, there’s always sushi when you want it (that’s like, rice with stuff inside, wrapped in seaweed…it’s really hard to explain) and I’m discovering a lot of stuff as I go.

Work is pretty cool as well, though being a ‘pom’ in a sport environment leads to a lot of ribbing. Like, people just can’t shut up about cricket, even though I don’t care and never will. If the indoor cricket nets need replacing they always send me to do it because…I don’t know. Something about the Ashes and having to make up for it. I’m REALLY hoping we win next time they roll around, because I want to rub it in their faces. Maybe hand my boss the cricket nets and tell him to do it himself.

Actually, don’t get me wrong; they’re really good people. Aside from the cricket thing,w e get on really well. I even got invited to the pub last night, and it’s pretty much the same as an English pub, except without all the good food. People mostly do the same things, though. Like, they still all make that one sound when someone breaks a glass. I had been wondering, so that’s good to know.

Otherwise, it’s just a lot of work at the moment, inflating various sports balls and setting up nets. If I’m good, they’ll let me set up the AFL nets for the big pro games. Apparently they think that’ll be some big honour for me, but I’ve seen at least one game, and I know they don’t even HAVE nets. So…that’s suspicious. Maybe it’s a prank.

-Ian

Be your best self, or Batman, always be Batman