So that’s the first week over and thanks to the generosity of Australia I haven’t participated in very much of it at all.
Up until News Years Eve, I always quite liked Australian folk, they are laid back, straight talking, fervently patriotic with a sharp sence of humour, nuff said.
Whilst they are not miserly, I had never thought of Aussies as particularly generous - hmmmmm, well, they can take their Aussie flu, that they have been sharing abundantly around the UK and shove it !!
Thanks to their germs knock out punch, I found myself “dreaming Australia “ or it could have been that I OD’d on Ribena and ibuprofen, which ever, several nights this week, sleep had me revisiting a kaleidoscope of incidents from our first trip to Oz.
Now enter Sir David Attenborough, & Blue Planet, bear with me....
The first day we landed in Oz (we arrived in the early morning, the following event happens by midday) we hit the beach, Coolangatta a surfing resort.
Bloody hell it’s hot, we had driven straight from the airport, to meet up with a UWE friend of Jacks, who was living there, professional surfing !
Yours truly strips off, cozzie on, straight in the sea to cool down,
Brett and Mack have sauntered off pretending to be super smooth surfers.
I stood there on my own enjoying the moment; FYI, this much deserved holiday was to celebrate my 50th & Chas’s 21st, but it was also Christmas, meaning we had just survived the usual run up with the last minute mayhem & despatches at the factory, we packed and escaped. So this was the first time I could relax.
I clearly remember standing there, taking it all in, jumping the waves, admiring the coastline and thanking God for my extreme good fortune when I became aware of silvery threads floating in the water around me, then in the blink of an eye the stinging pain as hundreds of thistles attached to my legs, the more I tried to disentangle myself, the tighter they seemed to grab me, stinging me again and again.
I shouted for help, none came (later the lads said they didn’t hear me above the surf) , so I grabbed the long jelly filaments, gingerly peeled them off and charged back to shore.
Chas and I headed up the beach to lifeguards station for advice, they had seen it hundreds of times before, studied the wheals on my legs, decided I wasn’t in any danger and suggested I get someone to wee on me ! Thanks lads!
In the absence of a urine provider, they gave me a bottle of vinegar, and told me to take a hot shower to relieve the pain.
Returning to our spot on the beach, I applied the vinegar and promptly passed out or went into a deep sleep, depending on how dramatic you want to make this tale. My lot, showing zero sympathy decided that sleep was nature’s healer and left me to it, I awoke an hour or so later with very tender thighs, got up and got on with the holiday.
Strange, it took 8 years and a bout of Aussie flu (extreme achy legs et al) to bring back those memories.
The main point of my blog ? Its a bit tenuous but also this week I had an email from Greenpeace asking me to sign a petition, pressing Coca Cola to address the 110 billion plastic bottles they produce every year.
The effects this plastic has on the pollution of our oceans cannot be understated, Sir David gently but firmly raised the point in several episodes of the breathtaking Blue Planet.
Greenpeace hope if Coke change, the rest of the world will follow, but need our help to keep pressurising these massive plastic bottle producers.
Forget Australia, all of us living in the UK must know how lucky we are to be so close to the sea, the waters and it’s inhabitants around our island are always awe inspiring.
I have attached the link to the Greenpeace page, please sign the petition - I can’t think of a single reason why you wouldn’t -it’s a New Year we must be positive & strong.
Interestingly, although that jelly fish bloody hurt , I can still remember how stunning beautiful and ethereal it was wafting in the waves - I rest my case.
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