Thursday 20th November. We have officially visited our very first ‘seven-eleven’ convenience store.
Now THAT was a new experience. Seriously, would it kill the Aussies to build a Waitrose? They only stocked one type of Champagne. What’s so convenient about that?
In a promising team-effort the three of us have cooked our first Aussie breakfast and, despite having to queue for over an hour and a half to use the kitchen, the resulting fry-up totally put everyone else’s own-brand porridge to shame. It was even worth the fist-fight Rachel got into over the microwave. Unfortunately, with all the benches taken, we had to sit on the bean-bags and eat off our laps like the worst kind of chav.
“It’s ten in the morn, daahlings,” Bev drawled in her ‘posh’ voice. “That’s Champers o’clock in my book.”
She expertly popped the cork from our bottle of fizz, and filled some plastic beakers Rachel had found at the back of a cupboard.
“Shall we toast our toast?” I suggested, raising my fried-bread in one hand and my drink with the other.
“To Australia!” I cheered.
“Bottoms up!” toasted Bev.
“Up ya bum and no babies!” cheered Rachel.
It’s occurred to me that this backpacking malarkey is the closest thing I’m ever going to get to living the student lifestyle, and I am determined to make the most of it. Yes, skipping the Uni experience and going straight to work may have had some financial rewards, but I’ve always felt like I’ve missed out on something. Some kind of Rite Of Passage. The lack of rules and responsibilities. The new experiences. Threesomes. This is my chance to sleep in, drink booze from mugs at breakfast-time, and generally do whatever the hell I like. I’m living the dream! Ok, so there’s no sign of a threesome, but I don’t have to do any studying either so I guess it all balances out.
From: [email protected]
To: “My Great British Contacts” Group
Life’s a beach!
20 November – 15:11
Hey Drongos! Chuck us a shrimp on the barbie, etc.
As I write, I am sitting on the golden beaches of St. Kilda, feet buried in sand and water lapping at my toes. Jealous? Don’t be. It’s abso-bloody freezing and we’re the only ones here. In fact, there seems to be quite a nasty storm whipping up. The girls had insisted we spent their first day (awake) on the beach and nothing was going to stop them, certainly not a little thing like a hurricane. I’m going to assume that they’re enjoying themselves, but with headphones wedged in and phones inches away from their faces it is hard to be sure. At the risk of sounding truly ancient, can you really appreciate your surroundings when you’re texting non-stop and listening to dubstep? But annoying, despite the near arctic conditions, they’re both showing signs of tanning up already. How is that even possible? I’m still so white I border on blue…
Love Kev x
SENT VIA MY MOBILE DEVICE
6pm
The beach is only a few stops away on the train, so this afternoon we braved public transport and headed there despite grey and stormy skies. After a brief but decadent shop amongst the yachts and glamour of Port Phillip (I think I enjoyed myself more than my wallet did), we headed further around the coast to St Kilda, where we experienced a full-body exfoliation by sunbathing within a passing sandstorm. Or ‘sunbaking’, as Bev insists on calling it, as “there’s no bath involved”. I had agreed in order to build on the glimmer of self-confidence I got from yesterday’s attempt, but it of course meant psyching myself up and whipping off my t-shirt in front of the only two people who know me on this half of the planet. They politely said nothing as all my flesh was revealed, but I’m pretty sure I saw their eyes widen in horror. The shock at least helped Rachel dislodge a few things, as she came back from the toilets in a great mood proudly revealing she’d had her first Australian poo.
“It were like someone emptied out a bag of Revels!” she exclaimed happily.
Girls are so gross.
The whole topless thing was a lot more stressful today, partly due to having people with me and partly due to the blast of wind that forced me to chase my towel down the beach, man-tits a-bouncing. Proper cringe. It’s made me determined to do anything I can to tone up and lose a bit of weight whilst I’m over here. Well, anything apart from eating healthy and working out, obviously. That’s WAY too much effort. The unfortunate jiggling put me in a bit of a grump, so when Bev asked me why all the photos on her camera were looking “well dark” I didn’t give her my usual tactful response and instead opted for, “because you’re looking at them through your fucking sunglasses, you moron!”
Unfortunately, Bev sometimes requires a little patience and sometimes I don’t have any.
10.50pm
Wow. Jet lag totally exists. That was the quickest pub crawl ever. Technically, it was not even a crawl. I barely managed a single drink before the coma set in.
We’d headed into town with two fellow Friendly Backpackers, ‘Cocaine Man’ and ‘Lesbian’. I’m pretty sure those aren’t their real names, but we’ve not asked. Being a back-packer is kind of like being a kid again, in that you can chat to anyone about anything and things like names don’t really matter. I’d been totally up for it an hour ago, fifty minutes ago I was a bit drowsy, and forty minutes ago I was comatose on the floor having toppled off my bar-stool in my sleep. Thirty minutes ago I woke up, still connected to the chair via a string of drool, peeled an empty crisp packet from my cheek and retaken my seat at the bar. Twenty minutes ago, in some semi-conscious daze, I found myself demonstrating the perfect method for pleasuring a man – using a bottle of Budweiser as a substitute penis. It’s not the kind of thing I’d normally do, but seeing as the photos are all over Facebook I’m hoping ‘jet-lag’ will be a good enough excuse for those wondering why I’m deep-throating a beer on the internet.
Now I’m in bed, I am both wide-awake and stone-cold sober. Sod’s Law I guess. It’s left me proper gagging for a decent cuppa and a choccie hobnob, but neither appear to exist over here. Some air-con wouldn’t go amiss either cos I’ve an awful case of Clammybuttitis, but the room only streteches to a small barred window near the ceiling. Despite the chill of the beach this morning, tonight was far too hot for the sweater I’d worn to the pub, sweat-er being an appropriate word. No one likes a soggy pit-stain, especially me when it’s mine, and it can be mortifying if a burly Aussie catches you squatting under the hand-dryer in the loo with your top pulled over your head. I’d imagine.
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Away With The Fairies Day 18
Tuesday 2nd December. - I woke up this morning with a throbbing head, fluffy teeth and inexplicably filthy hands. Last night's escapades at the bowling alley are all a bit vague. I remember downing Fliz's drink when she went off to pick up her hideous rubber shoes, and then legging it before she returned. I was so happy to get away from her that there’s a chance I did cartwheels on the way back to the hostel, which I guess would explain the dirty hands. What a horrible person. Her, not me, obviously. She totally deserved it. I also remember staggering through the door and seeing a sign at reception saying, 'Male Models Needed For Hairdressing Students – 8 am’ . I’ve been desperate for a bit of barnet-love, having sported a fusion of bed-head and lesbian-mullet since I got here […]
Away With The Fairies Day 17
Monday 1st December – Vineyard tour! Pinch, punch, first day of the month and all that shit! It’s off to be a good start. I've been looking forward to today's wine-tasting tour since we booked it last week. OK, so it's another coach trip where Bev and Rachel get to sit together and I ride behind them trying to join in, but this time there’ll be free booze too. I've forgotten what a decent pinot tastes like. Recently, if it's not been served in a cardboard cube on a two-for-one offer I've not even bothered. “I'm SO taking advantage of all the freebies today,” I told Bev. “I like being a bit discombobulated. Inebriation is so in right now. The kidneys are evil and must be punished!” She grinned enthusiastically. “I have no idea what you’re saying, so I'm just smiling […]
Away With The Fairies Day 16
Sunday 30th November- After lying in bed stewing for most of the night, I was woken rudely by the girls an hour or so after finally getting to sleep. “Why didn't ya wake us? I thought we was going aaht?” “You should have just gone without us, silly.” I was fuming. Not only were they blaming me for missing 'The Biggest Party On The Southern Hemisphere' but Bev didn’t even seem grateful that I’d missed out on it too on their behalf. Rude! I pictured myself slapping her round the tits in anger and setting her off like one of those executive desk-toys with the metal balls. But before I could shoot them down with my clever-but-cutting verbal assault that I'd spent all night perfecting, they focused on a spot just above my eye and grimaced in unison. “Euw.” That one […]
Away With The Fairies Day 15
Saturday 29th November - Groan. My first proper hangover since I got here and even the smallest movement is having repercussions. I’ve really got to calm this drinking down. If my body was a temple, my temple would be a Threshers. If it wasn't bad enough feeling this close to actual death when you're sharing a room with four other people, it's particularly horrific enduring a nasty case of the beer-shits when you share a bathroom with over fifty more. I was in there nearly an hour waiting for the place to empty so I could leg it and avoid being associated with the smell, by which time I needed to go back in again. Worst of all, I forgot to take my phone in with me so it was a double-whammy of misery. On the plus side, I think this […]
Away With The Fairies Day 14
Friday 28th November - Somehow the girls have made it out to go bikini shopping before 10am. I wasn't invited to join them, but I'm not bothered. They don't do bikinis my size. Watching them in action last night has reminded me that they'd always intended to be over here on their own. I was just a spur-of-the-moment after-thought. Not even that, really. After their strip-poker prick-teasing, they'd almost left me behind. They only remembered I was there when my hand reached out from the depths of that bloody beanbag and I asked for help. And do you know what they said? “Oh, we'd completely forgotten about you.” It's really hard not to take that personally, but I am starting to understand. When they'd been planning this trip they had expected to be two Essex Birds, flying wild and free in […]
Away With The Fairies Day 13
Thursday 27th November. The girls crashed in at around 6am, cackling and shushing each other. Bev then grabbed a carrier-bag and threw up in it, and then did it again in case the first garbled geyser hadn't woken everyone up. She was totally oblivious to the fact the bag had safety holes in the bottom, and that high-pressure vomit juice was now squirting out of both ends and spinning around the room. By the time she'd sprawled into her top bunk and was snoring, bag hanging limply from her finger, the toxic stream had dwindled to a gloopy dribble, each splat hanging in the horrified silence. It was no wonder that our German roommates decided to leg it, slamming their pebble-dashed clothes into cases and rushing off without so much as an “alfie design”. (I may have spelt that wrong.) […]
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