Well I’m back in my home town again. That’ll be almost the whole week I’ve spent here.
Just now I took Dallas and went out to find my father fencing (working on the fence kind, not the ‘prancing around with a foil trying to hit people’ kind) in one of the paddocks. Our new neighbour struck up a deal with my father – he would pay for a new fence, and help to put it up, if he could put his sheep on the land. Considering the fences here are older than I am, you could maybe imagine the state they are in. Plus, with the grass down there is a less of a risk from fire sweeping up the hill in the summer.
I found Dallas (he is our dog) an old bone to chew on while we stood there, like you see farmers doing in their paddocks, chatting about the weather. Then, Dallas, the classy little devil, started eating kangaroo poo.
“The main course was a bone, and now he is having a nice dessert of kangaroo poo,” my father said.
QUAAAACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK
“At least the duck found it funny.”
The timing on a farm is magical.
On Wednesday, my partner drove my old car here and my mother, my partner and myself all jumped in the car and headed back to the city. I decided to give my old car back to my parents because we had just brought a new one and we would have had 3 cars. My father needed another one to drive around town (his old Nissan has spiders and things all through it.)
The next day I went to work for 6 hours. I have to admit it was hard because it was a slow day. One of those days when you sit and stare at the clock that just seems to move slower and slower. I much prefer having something to do. Anyway, at 4:30 we left the city and drove back here (my mother and I.) It’s a lot for one day. I have no idea how I used to do it all the time in my first year of university, but today I am just very tired (and perhaps a little grumpy.)
No one wanted me to take their picture:
I found out this morning that Quackers (pictured to the left) was a naughty duck last night. When my father went in to feed them and top up the water, she got behind him and took off into the garden. It was dusk at the time, and considering you can hardly see these ducks in the good light if they are sitting under a tree, my father just left her out there.
She appeared the next morning, nibbling at the grass, and he put her away. He didn’t tell me last night, for obvious reasons. I would have been out there all night with a flash light trying to find her and she would have remained deadly silent. She is an odd thing at times.