Time runs away with ourselves

Very profound I'm sure. Life has been somewhat busy since last I managed to scrape my 3rd millenial cave paintings onto this global communications grid.
I have done a lot of swimming - in the morning, in the clouds, at night (technically probably against the norms) - and a small amount of dubious diving (1 successful attempt, 1 half way attempt, and 1 slightly painful stomach plant - what possessed me to leap from a 3 metre board after having dived twice in my life is well beyond me).

The year of the dodo [the dispassionate and obstinate disregard for obstacles] continues in fine style. It has led me to take several more risks than I would normally. I fear that one day I too will become extinct like our finely feathered friend and probably though some act of immense stupidity. Until then I shall enjoy leaping off diving boards and somersaulting off 10 metre cliff faces (camera clip to follow) - only slightly less dangerous than the child who backflipped off, or the one who nearly missed the water and landed on the rocks after our advice that he might want to try a safer jump. Apparently young people never learn.

Last week 2 of my very good friends left The Po (henceforth all names will be obscured for legal reasons). Zoc and Branwyn have scattered to further corners of the globe to pursure other ****** endeavours back in ******* and *********. I now have less friends here and no one to go early morning swimming or later night walking on the golf course with. Tim is proving to be an ok substitute for morning swims but the pink bikini top just doesn't suit him quite as well.

Kemar has left to go to ********* which is something of a relief. There is now much more space in our room and you can get up in the morning without listening to a cheerful jamaican singing the same 1 line of a song for 40 minutes (off key I might add). Yes we miss him really, but my own desire for personal space is currently winning out over my hospitable nature. Brondan still shares with me although he has disappeared over the last day and taken his duvet with him (called a 'doona' here for some weird reason). It is possible that he has gone walkabout, or that he has been captured by the vicious and infamous possum gang that roams the darkened streets of The Po. Secretly I suspect that he may himself be a mafia boss so perhaps he is otherwise engaged in some strange mission. Still, life continues as normal so we don't worry too much.

According to sources there is a 'cafe-style' church nearby that supplies its guests with a plentiful amount of tea and cookies and so I have decided to take the moral choice to go and check it out. After a hard day of fasting and praying I felt that it was only right to go and be blessed by them - and in turn to bless them by my presence and with my outstanding singing voice. I am sure that the Lord is approving my decision.

We have started a sort of informal worship gathering of a sunday evening led - apparently- by me. The quality is dubious but as with all things slightly vineyard-esque it is a good excuse to eat chocolate (cake is still my preference) and play some music. By which I mean I hit these 6 metal spaghetti type things stretched along the body of a curiously shaped piece of wood, and we all attempt to impersonate a dying kangaroo. It is also fulfills my desire to be a tortured artist as people are forced to listen to my new songs. It's a good job that God is our father otherwise he would probably come down here and tell me to get some lessons before I do any more giving of a musical nature. Still.

I shall save my travel log concerning the gorge (2 picures are now available on flickr - see the links to the right of this page) and the report concerning national moustache day until later. Suffice to say it's harder to be charming when you look like the wild man of the north's scruffy younger brother. More crazy pics and a video will follow.

I can't think of much else I might say without going on forever. Life here is still amazing with sunshine and beautiful places, plenty of craziness and people, and a touch of work in between. I'm probably going mad to be honest but I think that's more or less expected here.
In recent trips to The Cest I have seen no more llamas, although I have found the addresses of the local breeders so I shall go inspect them soon enough.

Last night we watched Crocodile Dundee and The Man From Snowy River (no snow and no river) with our C4 class. Notably with Tim our emo (not to be confused with emu) friend and Ironball Mackensie - the Father of Mack. We just about made it through thanks to the magic of TimTams and no small amount of pirate impersonations - if you will insist on putting a one legged man searching for gold in what do you expect?
Other than that I still miss everyone and will try to write more frequently from now on - a good solid week of going partying was necessary I thought so e-mail was scarce.

Rock on Justice dudes, I love hearing from you so feel free to write - I'll even accept things from My Stamp even though they'd be almost guaranteed to be offensive. If you could all stop having children or doing other extremely significant activities til I get back that would be wonderful.

Catch you on the flip flop (by which the australians mean: thong)

ps I haven't checked this for typos and because I write in white you can't see what you've written until you post it - just in case anyone thought my university education was oing to waste