Snakes. Why'd It Have To Be Snakes?

My hero, the perfect man, is back!

Indy, how I have missed you...


...I hope he rips his shirt in this one too!

A Horrid Realisation

The thought had been creeping up on me for a while. However, as always, I talked over the little voice in my head with something far more entertaining... the thought of beer!

Now, though, I cannot ignore the small whimperings any longer.

I. Am. FAT.

Fat, I tell you.

As porky as an overfed pig.

It ain't pretty. The saddlesacks have sagged nearly to my knees and my undulating bum resembles cottage cheese so much that I fear arrest each time I step into a supermarket.

Once again, it is time to take action against my unruly wobbly bits.

My bike which had lain so forlornly for months with a busted inner tube was fixed by my indolent self. With a quick dust of the handlebars and water bottle located from somewhere deep within the caverns of the kitchen cupboard I swung my leg over the seat and hopped on.

Someone has obviously been at my saddle though. I don't remember it being so pointy and so damned uncomfortable last time.

I pushed on, encouraged by the memories of when I would cycle to work before we lived in our present house. As I peddled faster I thought of all the gorgeous places I would cycle past by the river.

Places like this....



and this....




This ride was different. I was not expecting to be scared shitless at the imposing derelict power station.




It looks so eerie that you could be forgiven for thinking that nothing good could ever happen there. Like a building dementor



You also wouldn't have thought to cycle down stretches of road with massive pylons where creepy looking men drive ever so slowly past you and then park up fifty metres away. (I pegged it so fast past him that he wouldn't have stood a chance!)




Or part way round the coastal path, you wouldn't expect to cycle past a cattle station where in days gone by the cattle ships would offload their animals onto the beach.



Or to realise the reason CY O'Connor Beach is named as such is because this was the place that the infamous engineer decided to blow his brains out while out riding his horse.

Or that there is a statue erected and partially submerged in honour of his brilliance?!



But as I cycled into Fremantle I realised that it would be worth the eerieness and general decay of the surroundings as I would be fit once more. This body that belongs, so obviously to someone else and not to me will be banished for once and all.



Plus the view when you get there is a bit nice!

Only In Australia... Part 357.

Builders....

.....

Builders working to hospital guidelines.....

.....

We didn't stand a chance!


Our unit has been undergoing renovations which were to have taken "....*draws air through teeth*.... about twelve weeks, gov."

FIVE months later, said unit was presented to managers with the equivalent flourish of jazz hands and a welsh coal-miners choir of "da-daaahhh"

The manager walked around complementing the guys on their handiwork until she came to the isolation room specifically designed for sick/immuno-compromised/infectious patients (delete as appropriate).

The door was too small...

Hmm...

The door was too small to fit a bed through!

?

Thus rendering it useless to patients unless during an emergency resuscitation on them (in the extreme event of them arresting) we could call upon them in between chest compressions and injections of adrenaline, to get out of bed and walk through the door way and climb into a bed outwith the 'special room' that would be able to be wheeled to the ICU!

Needless to say, the move back into our unit has been delayed again for another couple of weeks whilst some seventeen year old bashes a bigger hole in the wall!