Someday we'll find it the Rainbow Connection

It was a big Saturday night in Woolomin when we headed about 2 and a half hours away to the North West Rainbow Connection dance, an opportunity for rural gays and lesbians to get together and party like it's, well, 1976. Woolomin, is a sleepy little town about half an hour outside Tamworth and if only locals knew! The dance floor filled up in an instant, when the Grease Medley came powering out over the speakers and everybody chanelled either Sandy and Danny or both. The big gay hits kept coming like there was no tomorrow, Rocky Horror's The Time Warp, at least four Village people hits including YMCA with all the action, Pet Shop Boys with Dusty Springfield singing, You were always on my mind. It was a quirky crowd who were all up for meeting new people. Some of the girls from Armidale were disappointed that I was straight, as you can imagine it's pretty hard to meet gay people out in the bush. There was also a raffle and I was delighted to win what Glenn calls 'my aids t-shirt'. Modelled here for your viewing pleasure.

A very happy man

This is John, he's happy and there is a genuine warmth that just exudes out of him. I hope one day to be as happy as John.

The best Friday night out in town

We headed over to the Wairalda Rail Social Club for Friday night dinner. I had visited on my last trip and had the best Friday night out I'd had in ages. I love feeling a quasi part of the community (cries of G'day Lol when I walked in the door), meat raffles (Glenn won, I didn't), talking about farming (it was here, I learnt that if a new calf dies and mummy cow is full of milk, you have to buy a new calf, then skin the dead calf and make the new calf wear the dead calf's skin and then rub the piss of mummy cow all over it, which cannot be a good feeling) getting a $3 dinner (curried sausage or beef stew) and having a laugh (everyone loves a good piss take). It was a top night and beats going to the Beach Hotel on Friday in Byron any day.

Rissole at the Rissole

Who wouldn't be tempted by this six dollar lunch at the RSL in Barrabra? This tasty morsel may look slightly toxic but the rissoles and gravy were actually very tasty. Or maybe I was incredibly hungry? Or maybe I don't know my taste buds from my bum hole? Answers on a postcard.

Is it just me or does this tree look like a beautiful woman with an afro wearing platform boots dancing?

Dead animals and dust

Oh the glamour. I went to the Bingara tip yesterday and got a weird red mud all over my red Gladiator sandals near the Dead Animal Pit. Sexy.

Lollie is a big fat cow

If I were PM I'd put it into the legislature that not to have Monday morning tea was Unaustralian. It seems to be another one of the country traditions that we'd all do well to re-establish. Glenn and I headed out to Wadgee Farm to have morning tea with the lovely Mr Stuart Dick (who wasn't too happy about me putting his underwear on the interweb), and Kim, John and Gary from Warialda Rails who I met on my last visit. I love country life. There is something delightful in the no bullshit approach and having the time to stop and have tea, made from tea leaves in a silver tea pot in tea cups with saucers, home made passion fruit sponge (thanks Olive), and cream and finger buns on a Monday morning. Stuart always turns the teapot three times before pouring the tea. I noticed this on my last trip and used it in The Sensitives, as well as calling the protoganist's granddad Stuart, after Mr Dick who I adore. Actually I used Wadgee as inspiration for a couple of scenes in the book.

Later I stood amongst a huge herd of cows under a threatening sky, which spat at us from a great height as Glenn and Stuart fed the cows. I still having city nerves being two foot away from a bull. I saw Lollie, the Heffer calf who was named after me on my last visit. Stuart declared that she is the biggest Heffer calf on the farm. Go Lol!

As much as I love the country, there are things that I still don't like. Birds in cages is one. We took a tour of Kim & John's birds, who they tend with absolute devotion and love with a passion but the rebel in me thought of sneaking in under the cover of darkness and opening all the cages. Fly be free! Yeah right, until they all died of starvation or became fast food for a hawk.

Where the bloody hell is Bingara?

The trip out to Bingara took about 7 hours. My thoughts were more of what I left behind than where I was going, although the scenery when you cross the Great Dividing Range is stunning. Suddenly the landscape takes on a Norman Lindsay feel, as the Lantana and greenery of the coast is left behind, and a sense of Australiana takes over.

There something about road trips where you just want to get there. Whenever I observed my mind willing to get me there faster, I reminded myself that it was about the journey, not the destination. To get me to my destination, I listened to Radiohead, Regina Spector, Fleet Foxes, Fever Ray, Elliott Smith (which is torturing myself, as it reminds me of someone who stole my heart) and Sarah Blasko, in that order.

It was great arriving at my dear friend Glenn's house. Glenn is a fellow Mullumite, who two weeks ago traded in small town living for even smaller town living. We were out west about three months ago, when I was writing my novel and Glenn found the cutest little cottage, owned by a old fella called Bernie. It's amazing that just three months on, I'm sitting in the lounge room typing this. There is something I love about the simplicity of the bush, the unhurried lifestyle, the lack of pretension, the constant talk of rain and animals and adverts on the television about pink eye featuring a farmer with a pink scarf around his eyes.

I'm going to be writing travel stories all down the coast for the Escape section in the Sunday newspapers nationally such as the Sunday Telegraph, Herald Sun, etc. My first story is going to be on Bingara!

Here's some photos to get you going.

Goodbye Jerry & Mullum, Hello World!

With change comes uncertainty. I left my hilltop home yesterday under the protective confines of Mount Chincogan feeling uncertain about where my life would end up, I was certain I'd made the right decision to follow my life where ever it would take me.

My last night was spent unceremoniously puking in the toilet after mixing white wine, red wine and a vodka, so my head spun like I was on the Claw at Dreamworld. I had nipped around to Cassie's for a drink at 6 pm and was home by 8.30 pm. Honest Guvnor.

It was such a glamorous new beginning to the first day of the rest of my life. I woke up feeling like I was 16 all over again, as my head throbbed and my stomach gurgled. I drank a cup of tea, which hit my stomach like a tsunami after an earthquake. With seconds to spare, I ran to the loo only to find my brother Dan occupying it, so I had to throw up in the sink in the bathroom, in the process blocking the drain with the remains of the previous night's fetta cheese, that Cassie had served on a lovely deli platter. You know when someone loves you (Dan) when they dig chunks of half digested fetta out of the sink that minutes previous had sat happily someone else's stomach to save you the indignity of having to do it yourself.

Maybe the pain of the hangover was to cover the pain of saying goodbye to my dog Jerry. I agonized about the decision whether to bring Jerry on the road trip with me. There were many reasons why I should: I'd have my best buddy sat in the front seat besides me (he looks so cute with a seat belt on), it would stop him running away with his dog mother, most importantly we'd be together. But there were many reasons against: He'd be away from his territory, he'd have to get used to staying at friend's houses, being cooped up in the car, and it would be harder to find a place to live in Melbourne. With Dan moving into the house, the decision was made the day before I left. Jerry would stay, Dan loves him and he loves Dan but it didn't make it any easier. It was like saying goodbye to a boyfriend (not in a beastilty way) but worse as Jerry had never fucked me over. When he realised I was going without him, he looked so dejected and unhappy, he lay on the floor comatose and I swear I saw a tear escape from his eye (or maybe it was eye gunk) Whatever, saying goodbye broke my heart. I was truly sad but I take comfort that he is with Dan and I will see him at Christmas and when I find myself settled with a nice big garden my lovely big dog will come and live with me.

Here's a picture of Jerry when he was trying out being a Muslim woman and some of my lovely house.

Smoking is for losers

So I just had my final cigarette - a filthy habit that I've battled with forever. If you see me smoking then please ask me for $50. Really.

42 on a Monday

42 on a Monday is not a glamorous sentence but that is what I am. Today is my 42nd birthday and I sit at my desk surrounded by the chaos of my life: big brown cardboard boxes stamped Mullumbimby Removals 6684 2198, piles of bills, CD's, the remains of a Vodka Lemon & Soda (I'll admit it's 11.37 but it's my birthday c'mon!) my office packed in Chinese inscribed chest, a Ben & Jerry's plastic cow hide cooler bag with a life time worth of video that I've promised myself I'll edit, bank statements that I've promised to neatly file and a picture of Scarlett Jonassan - I'm going blonder this week in preparation for my big adventure into the unknown.

I had a bit of an emotionally wobbly weekend but have tried to still myself with a post-it note I'd written to myself long ago and that I found just at the right time that reads: There is no security in following the call to adventure. Joseph Campbell.
I'm leaving Mullum on Friday for a long long slow road trip to Melbourne. I love Mullum and have made some beautiful friends here but my life is kicking me in a new direction and although it is scary, I've always found great leaps of faith result in life filling the vacuum with just what you need.


I've decided to blog my trip and share my adventures, which is rather unlike me, even though I am a writer, I feel there has always been a safe anonymity, even if I do turn up in Marie Claire wearing red thigh high mini skirts and basque tops on occasion, I was wearing a mask and changed my name as there is something scary about the inside on the outside. So here it is: my little soul laid bare.

You're welcome to come on my journey with me. xxx