Then I leave, and return to the small hostel, Manly Bungalow, and wax my board, and wish for a decent swell to come in, or that it was at least daylight when I return from work so I could see the lack of swell. Christmas in Byron seems an age away and I miss Becky and Reza, and I miss Holly, Mike and Mel. It seemed perhaps not complete, as having our own place up there would have helped, but close, as I felt part of a community. Sydney is faceless and full of common english looking to be a bigger fish in a bigger pond as opposed to whitebait in the hustle of London. There are too many people thinking that this is some sort of mecca for the lazy when the majority of people seem to work damn hard. Something doesnt fit right, and Im not sure what it is. Hearing an english accent here is starting to bug me, as its usually from a bunch of beered up blokes from Guildford, who are wanting to get away from their failing jobs in Refridgeration, Dixons, or direct sales for Lloyds TSB. They all seem to want to do something different, and get a tan, but unfortunately all they bring is English pessimism, drunken rowdiness and air of superiority, and the latter is exactly what Im doing now. The city is tainted with corporate culture, the ad-men ruleth and McDonalds sells the Billabong burger.
On top of all that, some cheap thug from the states is trying to ruin the rest of the planet, by trying to ignore its own international indiscretions such as supporting a myriad of terrorist organisations around the world, and deciding somehow that Saddam and his 'tache has become a matter of 'grave national security'. Im sorry, I know I should have put National Security in capitals. What has Mr Hussein got to do with Osama Bin Laden or doesnt that matter anymore. The shifting of focus from Afghanistan to Iraq has been one of the most impressive bits of spin this century, but still doesnt detract from the matter that while more than 90% of the Australian population is not in agreement with any possible war with Iraq, the US has put on pressure and Aussy troops are being sent. You work it out. Do the politicians listen any more. Are we actually at risk at the moment from Saddam? Is he going to launch an attack on someone, and if he does, have we run out of bigger bombs to hit him with?
Who the hell gave Dubya the right to attack a country just 'coz they don' luk rayght tu me'. How does Dubya feel about using weapons of mass destruction on a people to make sure that they dont use theirs first. Oh, thats ok is it? Thats in the rules. Just like the US is allowed to pollute the atmosphere, sell banned drugs overseas, give unlabelled GM grain to countries that have made a choice to remain GM free, and generally bend everyone else over and stick that flag up 'em.
I used to want to go into the army, and I still regret it to some extent, but I couldnt cope with the hypocrasy of telling someone not to create weapons, by killing them. Being a part of that would be sinful, regardless of religion. Oh yeah, North Korea, you arent allowed Nuclear power either. I know we have it, but thats not the point; we are always right, and are allowed to have nuclear power and our own nuclear accidents, plus have plenty of warheads to go around, but you aren't as you are far to, ahem, 'third world' for our liking.
In the middle of the playground is the U.N. who is the impotent teacher with no control over their class, the boss who cant get the staff motivated, the marriage guidance counsellor who is sleeping with the husband.
So I stay in Sydney, hoping that London isnt reduced to some 'Threads' vision of the future, where Albert Square has an 'scary muslim next door' story running, post apocalypse victims are left looking like those mutants in the mines on Mars from 'Total Recall' making the homeless at the moment looking like dandies, and Blair looking more like Dubya's bitch. I give up. Last time I got interested in politics and sent a letter to my MP, he ended up dead within a month on a kitchen table with an orange in his mouth. I'd love a bit of direct action, but I dont have a pilots licence or a beard, and I have far too much apathy to participate in a
bit of rioting. So I just put my angst here, where talks of further terrorist attacks like Bali crop up every other day, and people here are worried that diplomacy seems to have been forgotten about.
I'm still job hunting, but the IT industry is quiet. I've been looking at other positions, but Im starting to get the feeling that it might be time to move on from Sydney. The severe drought has meant over 50,000 farming jobs have been lost in NSW alone, so there is little hope for even fruit picking work. There are a few cars that we have seen around that look ok, but Im still going to get any nice ones checked over. The last thing I want is Cathy and I to be in the middle of the outback with nothing but brake fluid to drink, having had to consume the radiator water, once the gearbox fell out of the car and stranded us beside countless memorials of shells of cars with skeletons in, the scenery looking not dissimilar to Mad Max. I dont think I would last long in the Thunderdome, but I reckon I could have Tina Turner begging for mercy once I got a handful of that hair.
Next shift is 1400 tomorrow, but I dont think I am too busy. Ive just polished off the rest of Cathy's spag bol washed down with one of Chris Tarrants beers, sitting in my pants at 2am, with the temperature at around 20'C. I dread to think what its like in the UK. Rain, congestion charges, scraping ice off the car in the morning, stupid driving, 3 hours of daylight, 8 pounds for 2 beers and a O.J. council tax, Debenhams sale, Railtrack and the Hornby trainset kids in the Government, the Royal family and what they are trying to keep secret this week, Tony and Cherie and interesting old friends, coats on to go to the pubs.
The thing I miss most about the UK at the moment is the adverts, you don't know how lucky you are. UK TV is the best.
Im off to the army surplus to buy myself an Anderson shelter.
I used to want to go into the army, and I still regret it to some extent, but I couldnt cope with the hypocrasy of telling someone not to create weapons, by killing them. Being a part of that would be sinful, regardless of religion. Oh yeah, North Korea, you arent allowed Nuclear power either. I know we have it, but thats not the point; we are always right, and are allowed to have nuclear power and our own nuclear accidents, plus have plenty of warheads to go around, but you aren't as you are far to, ahem, 'third world' for our liking.
In the middle of the playground is the U.N. who is the impotent teacher with no control over their class, the boss who cant get the staff motivated, the marriage guidance counsellor who is sleeping with the husband.
So I stay in Sydney, hoping that London isnt reduced to some 'Threads' vision of the future, where Albert Square has an 'scary muslim next door' story running, post apocalypse victims are left looking like those mutants in the mines on Mars from 'Total Recall' making the homeless at the moment looking like dandies, and Blair looking more like Dubya's bitch. I give up. Last time I got interested in politics and sent a letter to my MP, he ended up dead within a month on a kitchen table with an orange in his mouth. I'd love a bit of direct action, but I dont have a pilots licence or a beard, and I have far too much apathy to participate in a
bit of rioting. So I just put my angst here, where talks of further terrorist attacks like Bali crop up every other day, and people here are worried that diplomacy seems to have been forgotten about.
I'm still job hunting, but the IT industry is quiet. I've been looking at other positions, but Im starting to get the feeling that it might be time to move on from Sydney. The severe drought has meant over 50,000 farming jobs have been lost in NSW alone, so there is little hope for even fruit picking work. There are a few cars that we have seen around that look ok, but Im still going to get any nice ones checked over. The last thing I want is Cathy and I to be in the middle of the outback with nothing but brake fluid to drink, having had to consume the radiator water, once the gearbox fell out of the car and stranded us beside countless memorials of shells of cars with skeletons in, the scenery looking not dissimilar to Mad Max. I dont think I would last long in the Thunderdome, but I reckon I could have Tina Turner begging for mercy once I got a handful of that hair.
Next shift is 1400 tomorrow, but I dont think I am too busy. Ive just polished off the rest of Cathy's spag bol washed down with one of Chris Tarrants beers, sitting in my pants at 2am, with the temperature at around 20'C. I dread to think what its like in the UK. Rain, congestion charges, scraping ice off the car in the morning, stupid driving, 3 hours of daylight, 8 pounds for 2 beers and a O.J. council tax, Debenhams sale, Railtrack and the Hornby trainset kids in the Government, the Royal family and what they are trying to keep secret this week, Tony and Cherie and interesting old friends, coats on to go to the pubs.
The thing I miss most about the UK at the moment is the adverts, you don't know how lucky you are. UK TV is the best.
Im off to the army surplus to buy myself an Anderson shelter.
No comments:
Post a Comment