A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times

Staying Home


There are times when even the most intrepid of explorers are forced into taking the odd day or two off from investigating brave new worlds. And with Monday the 9thalso meaning a return to work for the ‘it’s not an effin putt-putt’ whinge bag, today was to be one of those days.

But that is not what you came here for was it? To which I can only reply, WTF? I’m on holiday here too you know? But, by way of a compromise I have been allowed by she who must be obeyed, to give you a bit of a guided tour around the lands of Dragonfly mansions.

Dragonfly Mansions
Obviously I won’t be going into too much detail here as both I, or my better (much better in fact) half, being semi-responsible adults, are not too much into the habit of broadcasting the whereabouts of all our worldly wealth to complete strangers over the inter-webs. After all, Jodie has enough trouble with stalkers already. That’s how she met with me for God’s sake.

Anyway, starting from the big scary city, turning left at the local Spar (yes they have Spar mini-markets here. And believe it or not, they even have Woolworths (not the bankrupt English version of pick and mix fame but mega-supermarkets the likes of Tesco. How does that work then?)), going down the Pacific Highway super slab thingy, getting lost on a couple of wrong turns, and just around the corner form the Boathouse Tavern that we mentioned in earlier posts, there lies a small housing estate of say around 50 odd houses, some of which are townhouses (two storey affairs) and some that are villas (bungalows, who the hell are they trying to kid?) and then there is one, just one, solitary mansion house (and I say mansion house purely because my one bed roomed flat, back home will probably fit in just the bathroom here) – Dragonfly Mansions (enter at your peril, I mean, look what happened to me).

Click here for a good old nosey
Dragonfly Mansions is in fact a three bed roomed villa (so bungalow) affair with sliding glass doors instead of external walls, wall to wall tiled floors, a kitchen, a living room, bathroom, garage cum gymnasium and separate bog room. The walls are bedecked with diamonds, precious metal covings and floor to ceiling 50 inch plasma screen televisions. Granite work surfaces adorn the kitchen and bathroom units as do the mother of pearl cabinet doors, platinum sinks, marble wall tiles and solid gold fixtures and fittings which were all robbed from the local Bunnings DIY store (hence no internal photographs). Somehow the contrastingly cheap shoddy plastic door handles just don't add up with the mirrored ceilings though.

Outside however, the gardens are deliberately small and therefore extremely manageable even for the most novice handful of green fingers, being adorned with nice architecturally ornate and significant plantings here and there to make the whole place feel rather good, warm and generally all over cosy. And looking just down the only road seen twistedly running through the whole estate, there lies the piece-de-resistance to the estate, the wannabe Olympic sized swimming pool with adjoining spa bath, family changing facilities, en-suite kitchen and barbecue area and lordy lordy, there's even additional electric lighting for after dark (when they actually remember to turn the lights on that is). The pool closes at 9pm, when the witches come out and wash their cats or something equally esoteric.

Poolside photographs here guys
The pool itself is not at all a toy affair, with water running at about one and a half metres deep that turns a bright iridescent purple colour when you wee in it (sorry about that). And even though it is not heated, while cold enough to send icy chills right through your bollocks when you first enter it, it soon feels remarkably warm once you’re fully immersed.

Personally, I have to say, I hate the place.

But that’s only because I haven’t been allowed to set about it with my tools yet (although I have already done some internal remodelling (I moved a chair)) and brand it with the much needed mark of my own artistic flair and dare I say, home crafting abilities... 

PadPimpers for Australia I say, that'll soon show them.



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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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