Weather

I feel a little hard done by with the weather lately. It's freezing here and has been for the past few weeks. When I think of Australia I think of BBQ's, Beaches and people in flip flops. The only reason you would require a BBQ here at the moment would be to sit around camp fire style to keep warm.

The most annoying thing about this terrible weather is that back home everybody keeps telling me how warm it is. That is typical, I travel to Australia for a bit of sun and I'd of had more chance of finding it in Great Yarmouth.

Commuting

My commute to work each day takes around 30 minutes through one of Melbourne's most cosmopolitan areas. I take the #78 tram which runs along Chapel Street from St Kilda, where I live, through to Richmond in the north of the city where I work. I could get the train which would only take about 10 minutes but I quite enjoy popping my Ipod on and reading a chapter or two before work. The other benefit of the #78 tram is that its always rammed with interesting and colourful characters. Chapel Street is packed with pubs, bars and restaurants which are always busy and vibrant. One club called Revolver is almost always going strong especially weekends. It opens on a Thursday evening and doesn't close until Monday morning at 7am and its not uncommon for people to put in the full 4 day shift. 9 times out of 10 there will be some form of in-flight entertainment provided by the people of Chapel Street. I've witnessed all sorts, a woman divorcing her husband over the phone, a prostitute fall asleep eating an onion ring, a old woman knitting a giant male doll (You could tell it was male due to the giant penis and testicles she had crafted him) and I've even met an senile man who swore blind he was Malcolm Glazers brother in law. This particular gentleman also informed me that Princess Diana was having a passionate affair with Elton John before she died and the only time he had ever visited England was in 1966 when he received his knighthood after he graduated from Oxford with the highest grade ever achieved. After knowing the man 5 minutes it was quite clear the only thing he had ever actually achieved was the art of talking complete shite to strangers.

Close Quarters

I am quite willing to admit that I'm not the best person to share a bedroom with. I've had numerous reports from Rory that after a few drinks I tend to breath a little heavier than usual. Ill even admit to the odd case of bedtime flatulence, especially on my current supermarket basics diet. But all of this bares little significance in comparison to our housemate Matt. Matt is a snorer, and a fantastic one at that. I've heard some snorers in my time but this lad truly takes top prize. I know what your thinking, "Why don't you just buy ear plugs?". Well I've tried that and slept like a baby, didn't hear a thing. I didn't even hear my alarm in the morning which resulted in me being nearly 2 hours late for work.
My saving grace is the bunk bed situation, I'm on top and Matt sleeps below. Now every time I get woken up by his snoring, I just jump out of bed and shake the ladder as much as is necessary to wake him up. It works every time without fail.

Dr Follicle

It's been a while since I last had my hair cut and I was starting to look a little tramp like, so I decided to go and get a trim. Rory had his annual butchering last week at the local Kwick Kuts but after seeing the outcome I thought I'd give them a miss. I'm not overly picky when it comes to getting my hair cut but I try to stick to a few basic rules. Firstly it has to be cheap, which is why my mother normally gets the job back home. Secondly they have to be a men's barbers as I'm always worried I might end up with bleached blonde highlights or a loose perm if I go anywhere remotely feminine or fancy. And finally, I like to try and find somewhere with a classic red and white barbers pole outside. The last one is by no means essential but I always feel safer in the hands of someone that adheres to tradition in the hope that they wont attempt anything radical on me.
In the St Kilda area where I live there are literally 100's of hairdressers so I could afford to be picky. After only 5 minutes of hunting I found a place that seemed to tick all the boxes, even the barbers pole, so I went in and sat down. The barber was called Dr Follicles which impressed me immediately, I felt safe in the knowledge that the man standing behind me with a pair of sharp scissors was qualified with a PhD. Anyhow, the doctor made me a cup of green tea and set to work on the hair. I was a little concerned that he hadn't asked me what I wanted doing, but he seemed like he knew what he was up to so I just let him get on with it.
After 25 minutes of faffing around with various stainless steel utensils he was all finished. The result was your run of the mill, short back and sides which my mum can normally achieve with a pair of clippers in approximately 2 minutes. The only thing bloody Follicles had in common with a doctor was the money he charged for the consultation.

All Work And No Play Makes James A Dull Boy

First of all, apologies for the lack of posts over the past week or so. I've been working solidly at the shop which has resulted in a distinct lack of adventure for me to tell you about. On the positive side it has resulted in a rather large quantity of $'s being deposited into my bank account. Its now only a matter off time until the adventures recommence and I for one will be extremely grateful when they do.

As a form of apology I've decided to treat my loyal fans to a full week of short posts. That's 7 seven posts in 7 days. I know, I can hardly contain my excitement either.

The New Boy

I've just finished my first week as an employee of Soccer Crazy and what an eventful week its been. It all started Tuesday when I was asked to unpack a delivery of  jerseys we had received that morning from our supplier. I was sorting the shirts out into size order when I came across a little spider. Now, I'm not the worlds greatest fan of spiders. In fact I'm pretty bloody scared of them especially the big ones. Luckily for me, this fella was only small, so not wishing to appear a wimp in front of my new comrades, I wearily emptied the box ensuring the spider remained inside. When I'd finished unpacking the box, which didn't take long due to the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I took the box to the back door to get the beast out of the building and as far away from me as possible. On route one of my colleagues asked what I was up to, trying not to appear girly, I explained how I don't like to kill innocent animals and gave him a peek in the box. With a look of bewilderment he asked why I was petting a white tail and sharply handed the box back. I managed to maintain the animal lover front for about another 8 seconds, then he informed me of the white tail's venomous bite and my morals swiftly changed. I proceded to repeatedly splat the 8 legged monster with the first thing I could find and can confidently say that never again will I find a more appropriate use for a rolled up poster featuring the 07/08 Everton squad.

My next display of Australian naivety came on Wednesday when I was doing a shift in Soccer Crazy's partner store, Rugby Crazy. What I know about rugby could be written on the back of a public school boy's tie pin, but to get this job I had to extend the truth slightly and tell the manager I was a massive fan of the sport. I managed to wing it pretty well for the majority of the shift but then I got a little too confident. A customer came to the counter with a selection of items so I began to scan them into the till and struck up friendly conversation. I asked if he played Rugby?, League or Union?, What position? etc. At the end of the sale, I wished him luck for his game at the weekend and he departed. Another one of my colleagues then asked if I knew who I had just served, needless to say I had no Idea. It turned out to be some chap called Cameron Smith who's apparently the Australian national team's Vice Captain and plays professionally for local team Melbourne Storm. I've not been asked to do any shifts in the Rugby store since.

Fruitskin's Laundry Goes Global

To the untrained eye it may have appeared that I wasted the entire weekend sat in my pants watching premiership highlights. This was not the case. I was in fact expanding the Fruitskin's Landry fashion range and in the process going global. You can now pick up a whole range of merchandise designed by myself directly from the new internationally available online shop - www.cafepress.co.uk/Fruitskin

Everybody Loves Good Neighbours

After last weeks mild depression and utter boredom, things have most certainly picked up. Firstly, I have some good news - I am pleased to announce......... I have a job.
Its your basic sales assistant job in a small shop called Soccer Crazy and as the cringe-worthy name suggests its "mad about soccer" (Their words not mine). As is commonly the case when somebody or something describes itself as crazy, this place has no association with mental illness or anything to rouse excitement what-so-ever. It's just a normal shop that sells football paraphernalia and to be honest It's pretty dull. But regardless of how tedious a day in Soccer Crazy is it beats day time television or door to door sales hands down.
My spirit has also been lifted by the discovery of our 5 kiwi neighbours. They're all a little odd and tend to do things like buy each other small rocks, drink Bloody Marys for breakfast and dress like curtains. But they have been a great source of entertainment for the past 5 days to say the very least. There also appears to be no end to the generosity, out of the blue on Friday night one of them gave me $50 just to cheer me up and has since refused reimbursement. Yesterday I was presented with two packs of Xtreme strawberry fizzy laces and this morning I received a wallet fashioned from an old milk carton. I'm even being treated to a free course in aromatherapy. In return I provided them with elocution lessons and help them impersonate the queen. They seem happy with the arrangement so who am I to argue.
Anyhow, now that I have a job and regular income I'm hoping the adventures can pick up a little and give me more to write about.
P.s. Thank you to everyone who emailed recipes for potato and baked bean based meals, they are all very much appreciated.

Desperate Times

My current employment status is really starting to become a drag. The original plan was to get to Australia, find a job as a vintage soccer apparel model and start saving money for a few months to fund further travels. I soon realised vintage soccer apparel models don't exist in Australia, or in fact anywhere outside my head, and had to start applying for jobs that actually exist. After the window cleaner application fell through, I decided to increase my odds by applying for every single job vacancy in Melbourne. I've now applied for work as a Crane operate, a TV extra, a Pizza chef (Fluent Italian essential) and a Netball umpire to name but a few, but no matter what I try I don't seem to have any luck. It seems nobody wants to hire backpackers regardless of how brilliantly they portrayed Theseus in a 1995 production of A midsummer nights dream. Things have got to the stage where I'm willing to do almost anything.

In England, the chances of me getting up on a Sunday morning, travelling 100 miles to Leicestershire and handing out flyers at a Nuneaton Vs Kettering match for £40, are fairly slim. But it turns out that in Australia, a 3 hour train journey is considered a totally reasonable commute for a poorly paid weekend job. When I was asked by a friend, "Do you fancy doing some advertising at a footy match just outside Melbourne?" I jumped at the chance. What they failed to mention was that "just outside Melbourne" in Australian terms translates to anywhere in the state of Victoria. A state approximately equal in area to the entire United Kingdom. Sadly, a man in my current financial position needs all the work he can find, so I just popped my Ipod on shuffle and got on with it. Handing glossy paper to people, who 5 yards further down the street dispose of it on the floor, is not the most satisfying of occupations. It's also pretty degrading, especially when asked by the authority's to tidy up the mess left by my dissatisfied customers with my bare hands. Needless to say, it was a rather bleak outing.