DAY 4 The Steer & the croc
Posted: Mon Jun 27, 2011 11:29 am
DAY 4:
The sun rises on yet another day brimming with eager ambitions for military manoeuvres. However… ‘the boss’ is unavailable to guide croc to the outer depths of the zillion acres. Now, croc gets lost going to the letterbox, unless he has an OS map & a compass. (He actually walked the west to east coast of Scotland. How he didn’t end up in Siberia I don’t know) but I digress….. Clocking the position of the sun, he sets off in the boss’s ute, as instructed, & so is minus his ute complete with 2 way, & every imaginable survival accessory…including his thermos full of sugar…in a touch of black tea. The Devil looks after his own, & croc actually does locate the dark, damp forest, full of waterholes…and….indigenous slithering species. And who is gleefully waiting there…with his eyes boring into croc, from under his lowered head?? Yep. That particular (telepathic?) steer. The dance begins…& in a stroke of pure genius croc harasses him into the feedlot & slams the gate! ‘Job done! you smart little *@!"!!'
And so, the smart little *@!"!!' chooses the best available option & munches away on a bellyful of oats, while croc puts in an admirable day of hard slog…undisturbed….well, by the steer anyway. Comes smoko time & croc discovers he’s bereft of food or his beloved ‘brew’. (He’s a tad absent minded at times & all that got left behind in his ute. along with blankets, first aid kit etc etc.) ‘Oh well, I got water. That’ll do.’ And so, the sun duly begins to set…in the west…of course…in which direction croc has to head ‘home.’ It suddenly dawns on him that he has ‘no bloody idea’ where he is, & has a flamin’ great trailer to haul back…if… he can find his way back. ‘Bugger the trailer. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.’ Uh oh. Good old Telstra. No reception to call the boss & plead for directions. So it’s no phone. No fuel. No 2way. No sun. (quote) ‘No f/all!!’
After driving around in glory knows what direction he finally reaches the boss’s (intermittent) mobile. The boss says ‘Where are you. I’ll come & guide you back.’ ‘How the bloody hell do I know? You’ll have to send in the chopper!!’ (A week’s pay + a 12 month loan to pay off…???) ‘I just hope it’s your property I’ve fenced!’ Oh dear.
He ultimately takes the bit by the teeth & finds a way through the forest, towards where he recalled the sun setting. Goodo. However, it requires the crossing of a 6 foot ditch…in the faded light. He just hopes the boss’s ute will recover from the bungee jump down & then, hallelujah! her groaning best up the other side. And so…he gets back home. Starving, frozen, but still full of glee, because he left the smart little *@!"!!' locked in the feedlot, & ‘he’ll have a bellyful of bloat by the time I get back to him. I’ll take me hunting knife to relieve him of that….tomorrow.’
The sun rises on yet another day brimming with eager ambitions for military manoeuvres. However… ‘the boss’ is unavailable to guide croc to the outer depths of the zillion acres. Now, croc gets lost going to the letterbox, unless he has an OS map & a compass. (He actually walked the west to east coast of Scotland. How he didn’t end up in Siberia I don’t know) but I digress….. Clocking the position of the sun, he sets off in the boss’s ute, as instructed, & so is minus his ute complete with 2 way, & every imaginable survival accessory…including his thermos full of sugar…in a touch of black tea. The Devil looks after his own, & croc actually does locate the dark, damp forest, full of waterholes…and….indigenous slithering species. And who is gleefully waiting there…with his eyes boring into croc, from under his lowered head?? Yep. That particular (telepathic?) steer. The dance begins…& in a stroke of pure genius croc harasses him into the feedlot & slams the gate! ‘Job done! you smart little *@!"!!'
And so, the smart little *@!"!!' chooses the best available option & munches away on a bellyful of oats, while croc puts in an admirable day of hard slog…undisturbed….well, by the steer anyway. Comes smoko time & croc discovers he’s bereft of food or his beloved ‘brew’. (He’s a tad absent minded at times & all that got left behind in his ute. along with blankets, first aid kit etc etc.) ‘Oh well, I got water. That’ll do.’ And so, the sun duly begins to set…in the west…of course…in which direction croc has to head ‘home.’ It suddenly dawns on him that he has ‘no bloody idea’ where he is, & has a flamin’ great trailer to haul back…if… he can find his way back. ‘Bugger the trailer. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.’ Uh oh. Good old Telstra. No reception to call the boss & plead for directions. So it’s no phone. No fuel. No 2way. No sun. (quote) ‘No f/all!!’
After driving around in glory knows what direction he finally reaches the boss’s (intermittent) mobile. The boss says ‘Where are you. I’ll come & guide you back.’ ‘How the bloody hell do I know? You’ll have to send in the chopper!!’ (A week’s pay + a 12 month loan to pay off…???) ‘I just hope it’s your property I’ve fenced!’ Oh dear.
He ultimately takes the bit by the teeth & finds a way through the forest, towards where he recalled the sun setting. Goodo. However, it requires the crossing of a 6 foot ditch…in the faded light. He just hopes the boss’s ute will recover from the bungee jump down & then, hallelujah! her groaning best up the other side. And so…he gets back home. Starving, frozen, but still full of glee, because he left the smart little *@!"!!' locked in the feedlot, & ‘he’ll have a bellyful of bloat by the time I get back to him. I’ll take me hunting knife to relieve him of that….tomorrow.’