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.

Home Sweet Home

I am pleased to announce, Rory and I have finally found ourselves a place to live in Melbourne. After over a month of sleeping on various sofas & floors, we now have beds we can officially call our own. Well, not technically 'our own' as they're bunk beds and we share them, but its as close as we are going to get on our budget. Its a cosy little flat in the St. Kilda area of Melbourne which we are sharing with our two Irish friends Dave and Matt. We pay $110 (£50) a week and for that we get a roof over our heads, all inclusive bills, snake skin duvet covers, a cat mural on the kitchen wall,  Internet and cable TV with the full sports package including all European football.

I am now making good advances towards becoming a Melbournite. I know my way around the underground and tram systems, I've decided which Aussie rules football team I support and now have permanent accommodation. The one thing I'm still missing is a job but hopefully that will change soon as I've got several things in the pipe line. There's even a possibility I could become an abseiling window cleaner. Not sure whether ill get it as the advert specifically states that experience is essential, but surely it can't be that hard to clean a few windows. I'm just hoping they have good insurance cover if they expect me to tie any ropes.

Birthday Cake & Jelly

Coincidently, today was not only Rory's Birthday but Spuff's as well. I wanted to buy them a little something to share but wasn't sure quite what to get. After a little deliberating I settled for the very cheap and highly impractical option of baking them a cake. I've never baked a cake before in my life but am always open to new experiences so I found a recipe and went shopping. When I got back to the apartment I discovered that Spuff didn't even own scales or a measuring jug so things weren't looking promising. I estimated the quantities of all the ingredient and chucked them in a bowl, gave it a stir with a fork and popped it in a lightly margarined ceramic bowl.

After an exciting 45 minutes in the oven I removed the bowl to discover I had just created a new chocolate based culinary delight shared a consistently similar to that of cottage cheese. A little bit of a disaster I must admit, but I soldiered on regardless and masked the treat with icing sugar, 100's & 1000's and party candles.

After my experiment with baking hideously failed, we decided to go out for a meal at the local casino. Every night they put on a global buffet for $20 (£10), which basically comprises of one dish form each culture around the world. A good idea in principal but it doesn't quite work. For example, last night they had roast beef, carbonara, lamb curry, dim sum, meat balls, broccoli soup, lumps of pumpkin and tiny steak & kidney party pies. All reasonable foods in their own right, but how you are meant to create a single meal out of them is something I still haven't figured out.

After eating my way twice around the planet I was feeling a little full, so I settled for something small for desert. For my actions I received a totally uncalled for amount of grief. Despite the vast selection of adult deserts on offer, I'd opted to raid the children's section for jelly and strawberry moose. It did make me look like I was attending a child's birthday party so I tried to justify myself by explaining I was full and didn't think I could manage an adult portion. Rory then claimed jelly didn't fill him up due to it being comprised of mostly water, so I put him to the test.

I went back to the desert section grabbed a nice big birthday bowl and filled it with as much jelly as it could possibly hold. I had to be careful walking it back to the table as it was practically overflowing and wobbling all over the shop. About half way through the task Rory started to slow down but claimed it was the broccoli soup and he just needed a little break. Two spoons later and he was slouched over the table defeated by a child's desert. Poor Rory then had to go home early because he felt so ill.

When we got back to the apartment a few hours later I noticed he hadn't even touched the Birthday cake I'd baked him. Talk about ungrateful.