After our time in Surfer's with Deirdre and Ross we got on the train and finally made it up to Emma in Noosa, where she was living in her bosses' granny flat at the end of their gigantic garden.
The flat was really pleasant in the day time, but as scary as Gerard Depardieu with a cold at night.
The noise at night from the two miniature swamps bellowing out of the vast black expanse sounded like someone had rigged up a 'Mental Sounds of the Amazon' tape and turned it up to eleven. And a half. This took a bit of getting used to, but we eventually adjusted..
We were a little bit shocked that Emma had the balls to stay down there on her own, especially at times when there was no one at home in the mini-mansion at the top of the garden. Wes Craven would have killed for a set like this.
Emma's friend Jim had sent her over a stack of DVDs to help her wile away the little time that she had to herself and for the first couple of nights we settled down and watched a few good films, including the immortal Robin Hood (of the Disney variety).
During these first few days we would either go down to the part of Noosa beach that, as Emma assured us, only the locals went to, and would frolic in the waves that were very much fun, but also very much the colour of a hangover piss.
We of course met, for me for the first time, the family that Em was staying and working with. They consisted of Gareth and Suki, two ex-Olympic swimmers that now ran a swimwear and sports merchandising company, and their three kids - also all rapacious swimmers - the quite unbelievably named Buster, Scarlet and Tigger.
We of course met, for me for the first time, the family that Em was staying and working with. They consisted of Gareth and Suki, two ex-Olympic swimmers that now ran a swimwear and sports merchandising company, and their three kids - also all rapacious swimmers - the quite unbelievably named Buster, Scarlet and Tigger.
These three were great to hang around with, and Tigger, the youngest at about eight, would challenge me to football matches galore every day we were there. I think the average score was about 30-10 in his favour most days, but I've put that down to him having the home advantage.
We also saw a lot of Scarlet, the middle child (I often told her I felt her pain), who was as dry and sharp as an Egyptian dagger, but only half as cold. She was also a swimmer, but I felt that she wasn't as keen as her brothers and I fear that she may burn out if her parents continue to push her as they presently do.
I didn't meet Buster until the second week that we were there when we collected him from his school on the last day of the year. I was glad - I have no idea why - that he had just about clung on to his English accent, and he was a really nice lad.
We got to see him race once at a gala, and although his team lost, he was really strong and apparently has a good chance of making the 2012 cut. He's the current national champion, and he still has about another eight inches to grow, which will help as his current competitors are all 6'4" at fifteen years of age. Truly scary stuff.
We spent a good deal of time in and around the house, trying to help out a bit with the kids and also just dossing around by the side of their pool, which on the sunny days was idyllic. Emma would have to work in the office which backed on to her flat during the days, and Hel and I would try and keep her spirits up as she wasn't really enjoying herself - even more so when her sister and favourite boy in the whole world were lounging about next door watching the extras on the Bedknobs and Broomsticks DVD.
Noosa itself was an OK place to stay for a while, if only a small town with a lot of rich people with no taste.
The time came when Emma had to go down to Brisbane to man the actual shop outlet, and Gareth would come back up to the office. We went down with her and stayed in the back of the cramped shop amongst the stock. I hope that we brightened up Emma's days a bit, but we didn't get up to much here at all. I didn't particularly like Brisbane as a city, but perhaps I just saw the wrong end of it.
One interesting chap would crop up every day and shout at the shop, or directly at us if we were there, that we were 'Fucking filthy European cunts' and that we should 'Get fuck out of my country you fucking cunt faces'. I couldn't help smiling at this, but for Emma, who had to endure this everyday that she had been there, on her own in a shop that he lived ten seconds away from, the situation was somewhat more menacing.
Emma's situation at the shop was rather dire, and I don't think she would mind me saying that it certainly wasn't the adventure that she'd had in mind when she'd left England nearly nine months before hand.
When we were there we ate a lot of Tim-Tams (the only chocolate that Australians do better than the British - to the uninitiated they are essentially uber-Penguins) and spent a lot of time on the internet. I watched everything that Adam and Joe have ever done, including this, which is an act of such genius it's hard to describe in words, and when attempted comes out more like the sound when you accidentally swallow the wrong way when you randomly have too much spit in your mouth.
During this period Helen became severely addicted (not too strong a word - she had a problem) to going onto racist groups on Facebook and arguing with the cretins on there. For hours and hours and hours.
As an example of the sort of moronic tone that she met with, one of the groups was called 'YOUR IN ENGLAND SPEAK THE FUCKIN LANGUAGE' - without a hint of irony.
We also went to see the new James Bond movie; the least said the better.
We also saw a lot of Scarlet, the middle child (I often told her I felt her pain), who was as dry and sharp as an Egyptian dagger, but only half as cold. She was also a swimmer, but I felt that she wasn't as keen as her brothers and I fear that she may burn out if her parents continue to push her as they presently do.
I didn't meet Buster until the second week that we were there when we collected him from his school on the last day of the year. I was glad - I have no idea why - that he had just about clung on to his English accent, and he was a really nice lad.
We got to see him race once at a gala, and although his team lost, he was really strong and apparently has a good chance of making the 2012 cut. He's the current national champion, and he still has about another eight inches to grow, which will help as his current competitors are all 6'4" at fifteen years of age. Truly scary stuff.
We spent a good deal of time in and around the house, trying to help out a bit with the kids and also just dossing around by the side of their pool, which on the sunny days was idyllic. Emma would have to work in the office which backed on to her flat during the days, and Hel and I would try and keep her spirits up as she wasn't really enjoying herself - even more so when her sister and favourite boy in the whole world were lounging about next door watching the extras on the Bedknobs and Broomsticks DVD.
Noosa itself was an OK place to stay for a while, if only a small town with a lot of rich people with no taste.
The time came when Emma had to go down to Brisbane to man the actual shop outlet, and Gareth would come back up to the office. We went down with her and stayed in the back of the cramped shop amongst the stock. I hope that we brightened up Emma's days a bit, but we didn't get up to much here at all. I didn't particularly like Brisbane as a city, but perhaps I just saw the wrong end of it.
One interesting chap would crop up every day and shout at the shop, or directly at us if we were there, that we were 'Fucking filthy European cunts' and that we should 'Get fuck out of my country you fucking cunt faces'. I couldn't help smiling at this, but for Emma, who had to endure this everyday that she had been there, on her own in a shop that he lived ten seconds away from, the situation was somewhat more menacing.
Emma's situation at the shop was rather dire, and I don't think she would mind me saying that it certainly wasn't the adventure that she'd had in mind when she'd left England nearly nine months before hand.
When we were there we ate a lot of Tim-Tams (the only chocolate that Australians do better than the British - to the uninitiated they are essentially uber-Penguins) and spent a lot of time on the internet. I watched everything that Adam and Joe have ever done, including this, which is an act of such genius it's hard to describe in words, and when attempted comes out more like the sound when you accidentally swallow the wrong way when you randomly have too much spit in your mouth.
During this period Helen became severely addicted (not too strong a word - she had a problem) to going onto racist groups on Facebook and arguing with the cretins on there. For hours and hours and hours.
As an example of the sort of moronic tone that she met with, one of the groups was called 'YOUR IN ENGLAND SPEAK THE FUCKIN LANGUAGE' - without a hint of irony.
We also went to see the new James Bond movie; the least said the better.
I will say this though, you could sit me down in front of a single sheet of A5 paper, give me a piece of pink crayon two centimetres long, a thousand paper cuts to the bellend and set me on fire from the eyeballs down and I could still draft a narrative that made more sense than the steaming pile of shit-debris that was left for Daniel Craig to try, and try he did, to sweep up.
We also did some dressing up, Helen managing to get on 65 per cent of the stock on sale.
In the next episode of Helen and Chris Fuck Around For a Year...
A mother arrives, we return to Byron Bay and we do an old fashion prison break!
1 comment:
Oh My God I am wetting myself reading your blog, keep it coming!
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