Welcome to Australia!

Welcome to Australia!

Curious advertising sentiment

Curious advertising sentiment

Gus the Housebus almost brought me to tears. He was so awesome.

Gus the Housebus almost brought me to tears. He was so awesome.

The Crow’s Nest in Timaru. Wonderful composition of junk.

The Crow’s Nest in Timaru. Wonderful composition of junk.

Ridiculously generous scoopage!

Ridiculously generous scoopage!

“ONE COULD ALMOST DO WITHOUT DINNER AFTER SUCH A LUNCHEON”


This Virginia Woolf quote seems to sum up the next farm - Treehugger Organics. 

We were occupied by an endless stream of garlic related tasks: sorting the mouldy from the good, peeling cloves until our fingers stung, mixing it up in a food processor and spreading it onto trays to be put in the dehydrator… all smelly work. Especially when one unknowingly knocked the tap of an unfortunately placed cider brewing keg just behind the garlic working station causing a puddle of yeasty, garlic-trodden mess. 

But we were also in ridiculously high spirits because Nath and Steph, our hosts, were such spectacularly hospitable and lovely people. Willing workers on organic farms certainly applied. We worked pretty much 7 hours a day (some of which was popping garlic in the living room in front of a DVD or listening to Fleetwood Mac), punctuated by a spot of lunch, leftovers from the night before, and the odd cup of tea or spoonful of peanut butter or cuddle with one of the three good-natured Jack Russells, Noel, Herb and Zoe. And then, around 5, a few homebrew lagers would be fetched from the walk-in chiller, a fire would be started in the stove, Steph, the dry Northerner, would get home from her job in the town, and we’d all chip in with that evening’s mammoth supper.  A bit of banter, a discussion of the following day’s tasks and perhaps a group film would follow, and then Jess and I would retire, and drift to sleep listening to the cynical witticisms of Dylan Moran….
This sort of sums up the first farm. It’s not quite ironic. 

This sort of sums up the first farm. It’s not quite ironic. 

ODES TO MY FAVOURITE PASTIME.


The highest of states is recumbence

And it’s best when it comes in abundance.

There’s no better way

To start off one’s day

Than to lie with no thought of assemblance.

*****

No part of my day’s more eventful

Nor towards which do I feel more resentful

Than the build of ambition

Towards the transition

To standing, from horizontal.