The Lair of the Emerald Serpent

A certain serpent has been somewhat psycho of late. Not the axe murdering, baby munching, cat killing uncontrollable and sadistic sort of psycho but just plain neurotic and as mad as a hatter. Jittery and agitated and totally unable to snap out of such a crazy state. So it is simply pointless to go pottering on grand adventures as it is simply a waste of time and train fares. As there’s a rather large pile of mulch on the verge and and a botanical monster needing to be tamed, termite infested den of iniquity that it is, figured that it made more sense to linger about the Lair and sort this stuff out rather than go on any pottering, plotting and planning camp nano coffee crawls. Not quite coffee as that is well and truly off the menu but a pot of tea or two

Yesterday in a fit of nostalgia paid a visit to the Muse cafe located appropriately enough in the grounds of the state museum. It was exactly six months ago yesterday since discovering the place in its new incarnation. It used to be a quaint place selling crappy coffees and sandwiches at exorbitant prices. So it was hardly a surprise that it closed

The new mob are big into retro and the 1950s look but most importantly of all they have loose leaf tea in real china pots and cute cups and quirky spoons to match.

The very first visit did think that six silver sickles for a big pot was a bit decadent but chose to indulge anyway. But the whole ritual with the gorgeous china pots and a good four cups of real tea per pot made that six dollars most reasonable indeed. So been pretty much a regular since then.
That particular day had brought a stash of papers printed out the day before but waiting for a suitable occasion before a proper peek. These pages were several weeks worth of home work assignments for the Coursera “Introduction to Mathematical Thinking”

Spent a good few afternoons doing that stuff there as well as the crypto course homework. There is just something about sitting outside under the trees with a cup or two of tea rather than staring at a blinking computer screen that makes the old serpent green cells function a lot more efficiently
It was also an excellent spot for nano plotting, planning and squiggling and almost became an unofficial city HQ for a certain serpent

But it was a muggy day and the magic was just not there. It was not the bus ride but some phone dramas that had made the Izzie crazy and even cups of tea at the Muse cafe were not going to cast their usual spell. Did resort to pulling out the very same stash of maths assignments from six months ago and doing some of assignment 6 sort of served as a circuit breaker. But it is very easy to be reasonably calm when it is quiet and there are no distractions.

( Crazy Izzie and the Chain Saw Massacre )

Izzie has been up and down like a yo yo all over the place. Here's hoping we can end the craziness at the stroke of midnight. Even in Oz, October is one of Izzie's favorite months. The light is still reasonably delicate by Oz standards, the days not too short or too long and not horrid and hot like so often from November onwards. But most importantly, all the pretty little critters are blooming and blossoming everywhere. At the moment the main stars are the wattles, orange blossoms and cute macadamia catkins

Slowly but surely working out what the triggers to the madness are. Bags and buses are by far the worst offenders. Or it's more correct to say that they are most likely to be triggers when Izzie slinks from boom and bloom into the doom and gloom phase.
Had just about the whole week of holidays and a special day saved for the happy Hippie greenie garden festival ruined due to this uncontrollable neurotic streak

It was funny. One of the worst days of all was Thursday 17th. Started out perfectly fine sitting out in the garden in the sun sniffing the orange blossoms. It was the bus to Fremantle that marked the transition from calm to downright loopy and crazy. Not just the bat out of hell driving and constant slamming of the brakes but the silly Izzie swipe card making cranky noises at the end of the trip. Getting a constant loud red beep saying try again 3 or 4 times in a row when there's a bunch of other critters also waiting to swipe their cards and get off too was enough to evoke instant paranoia, panic stations and claustrophobia.
At this stage, the pesky red lightseses have almost become an omen and a self fulfilling prophecy of doom
There was just the constant drip drip of seemingly insignificant things and minor irritations crowned by unexpected rain while sitting near the plane trees in the garden of the old lunatic asylum just about to squiggle in the green spiral notebook and drool for the first time over a dark gloomy gorgeous new deck of tarot cards.
Lucky they copped no more than a drop or two but since the exact same thing happened in the same garden two weeks previously, the Izzie was getting seriously spooked out

After another bus ride from hell with the critters in the bottle shop trying to overcharge and short change this serpent, slinked back to the lair sulking too miserable to even drown the sorrows and just curled up in the serpent basket for the night at the ridiculous hour of 8pm
No point in slinking in Cyberia. Such a sad mental state would just encourage a convention of every egg timer and spinning beachball in the known universe.

But there was still the minor matter of Friday morning. Was rostered on at the weekly public speaking group to do a five minute speech on the topic of "Tug of War"
Was absolutely and totally brain dead and totally uninspired. But the serpent also has a policy of always turning up and doing a speech if the name is on the list. Of course, with such a run of luck, it would be quite likely to either miss the bus or get run over by it on the way but if this did not happen, would need to be prepared
So determined that this would not be the day to play the Chicken card (turning up and requesting not to do the speech due to lack of inspiration, preparation or whatever) it was a case of summoning the absent muse for inspiration
And that is exactly what Izzie did. With the topic being "Tug of War" why not talk about the war in the serpent skull between the gloomy doomy miserable inner Vernon Dursley who likes to ruin everything and the wise, fun loving crazy inner serpent that is Izzie.
Dursley is the one who makes you miss the bus by two seconds and then when you finally do get one, it's red lights and traffic jams all the way

It was quite funny. Not only did the audience love it but the critic did too. Loved the bit where he said that he got all green lights on the way to the meeting that morning so his inner Izzie must have been out and about. (especially as we hadn't even mentioned that characteristic of the inner serpent - he just inferred the opposite from those dreadful Dursleyish red lights)
In some strange way, the more specific you are about your own quirks and craziness, the more universal you are to others. They are probably thinking that they are the only one who also has to juggle such crazy critters inside their heads and it is a relief to know they are not alone
And not a single one of them realized that apart from the general structure of the main idea, the whole speech was improvised on the spot
Even got awarded the Stirrers' Spoon for the most stirring speech of the day

But that wasn't enough to scare old Vernon away entirely. He lingered about the whole week and did not leave until the following Thursday.
Then things went the opposite way. All green lights and good luck and last Friday even got presented with the certificate for completing the intermediate speaking program - the one where ditzy disorganized Izzie managed to lose the signing sheet for a good 3 years or so. But got there in the end.
Here's hoping Izzie will still be the boss tomorrow and Friday. Will be going to the Royal Show on Friday and it's not the sort of place where a puritanical claustrophobic grumpy miserable Dursley is welcome.

Aunt Marge has finally left and things are slowly getting back to perfectly normal in Privet Drive. This visit was truly what one could call "The Nightmare before Christmas"
But all the events of the past four weeks or so could almost have been predicted. It sounds terrible to say that some one who has been badly treated has been 'asking for it" but it just happens to be so.

Izzie's dad - also known as Uncle Vernon has a horrid family every bit as Dursleyish as himself. Every year since they came to Oz way back in 1989, he rings all of the little buggers for Christmas. They are of course quite happy to chat. But in all this time, not ONCE did a single one of these cheap and nasty creatures ever make a single phone call. Not even when close relatives and friends died did any of them ever bother to pick up the phone and tell him. Even a postcard was too much bother.
He always ended up finding out from the Izzie brother who gets all the gossip on the grapevine.

But 7 or so weeks ago this all changed. He got one itsie bitsie phone call - very short and not so sweet. His dearest sister had decided to come over to Oz for a visit. Silly bugger. Not only does he ring her back (and suddenly her aversion to speaking on the phone miraculously vanishes) but then announces that he will call her every week just to make sure everything is going to plan!!!! Now Iz has to ask herself - if this is not a public service announcement to say "Hello. I'm a stupid sucker and an excellent doormat -yours to walk all over" - then the Iz doesn't know what is. And yessss. Aunt Marge got the message loud and clear from the moment they arrived.

(Iz remembers vividly many moons ago sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework when the pesky little brother shouts from the lounge room "Fatso. Come here and help me with my French homework." Dopey dutiful Iz immediately got up like a good little Stepford Sister and was about to head off to the room. The ma stops the Iz and says to the effect. Wait a minute. Just who is helping whom around here. If he wants help with his homework - then he can come in here and ask instead of expecting you to go running off after him. And of course she was right and that's what the Izzie did. It was the beginning of a most most useful lesson indeed. The one who is always eager to please and never imposes limits on their assistance will invariably be despised and disrespected and treated like a doormat.And that is even aside from the issue of name calling. That's how badly the Iz had trained her baby brother that he could call out such insults and still demand, expect and actually get service)

Several years ago, the Izzie sister came over with her fella. The ma suggests giving them the main bedroom which has its own bathroom and toilet so that they have a bit of privacy and don't have to be running through the house all the time to get to the other bathroom. Vernon was not amused and says pretty much to the effect that "No F*&&#$%% Dutchman is ever going to sleep in MY bed!" and that if they don't want to fit in with the daily Dursley routine then they should damn well stay some place else.
But this time, the ma had hardly uttered the first two words of this very same suggestion of letting the guests sleep in his bed and he was falling over himself with the brilliance and logic of this wonderful suggestion!

Well. Aunt Marge and her better half finally left this afternoon. Izzie is so so lucky to have her own place so she didn't have to see much of them. For poor Petunia it wss another matter. They had been over for four weeks and had every convenience laid on for them. They didn't even have to bother hiring a car to travel since Uncle Vernon insists on chauffeuring them everywhere. And guess who pays for the petrol?
They've been eating all the ma and pa's food and drinking all their wine and always make sure to return at 5.30 pm every evening for their dinner (empty handed mind you)
Then there's the little habit of putting on 4-5 loads of washing every week for two people! and never asking the ma if it is ok but just going ahead and doing it as if she owns the place. But during their week on the road with Vernon travelling to Kalgoorlie and Esperance - she did not do an ounce of washing at all (She would have had to go to a Laundrette and PAY for the privelege)

So she waits till she comes back - shoves it all in the machine and the poor thing goes kaputt from being overloaded. And it's only 2 months old. Lucky it' s still under warranty. But that is NOT the point.
This morning again on her last day here she was ironing away like a Stepford wife.

These folks just never bothered going anywhere unless it was with Uncle Vernon so that like the dopey doormat that he is, he would pay for everything.
They didn't want to go out for a meal for her birthday which was two weeks ago because the restaurants have a surcharge of 10% on weekends and public holidays (Never mind that eating out here is less than half the price that they would pay in Ireland - not that they'd ever pay there either by the looks of it)
But they were quite happy to tag along when the ma and pa and Iz went to a meal for Vernon's birthday and they made it quite clear that they expected the ma and pa to pay for them too.

Iz and the ma could not get over the fact that not only would they turn up in time every evening for a meal but would never buy any food themselves and in the whole four weeks bought one single solitary bottle of wine - which is also dirt cheap here compared to at home. In fact - for a European coming to Oz, apart from the cost of getting here, it's a bit like what it's like for an Australian to go to Bali. Dirt cheap. But still not cheap enough for them.
They did invite all three of us to a meal on Tuesday and they actually paid for everyone but you really got the impression they thought that was more than adequate compensation for four weeks of free accomodation (Stupid Vernon was also paying for places to stay on their five days away along with all the petrol) along with 3 meals a day - not just any old crap but steaks and salmon and bottomless booze included and unlimited access to washing and ironing facilities as well as countless chaffeured trips from Uncle V who would even bring them to places and pick them up a few hours later when they could have gotten there in 20 minutes with the bus just five minutes down the road.

But the absolute classic had to be the picnic at another one of those gorgeous places that used to be a lunatic asylum. It's on a hill overlooking the river with gorgeous breezes and views of Dursleyville. The ma told them several days previously that we would be having a picnic. Iz was also invited and brought lots of nice cheeses and biccies and sundried tomatoes. They went for their early morning walk before the picnic - to within 10 metres of a grocery store selling both booze and food and do you think they could be bothered going in there to get a single solitary sausage or sliver of spam? Oh God no. After all - they must have still been recovering from paying for that meal on Tuesday.

It's not as if anyone was expecting them to grovel with eternal gratitude for the hostess with the mostess or any such thing - but the extent of their pettiness and total absence of even token gestures of appreciation was just so astonishly appalling. It was almost as if it was a deliberate insult. Izzie has never met such a sad bunch of freeloaders in her life and even Uncle Vernon is probably surprised at their miserliness.
It's one thing being creatively frugal and having fun - like recycling Christmas presents and wrapping and making it a competition who can re use the same piece of wrapping the most. Things like shopping around for the best bargains or just being economical and thrifty. Iz thinks that is cool, clever and fun. But saving money for oneself by dumping the costs onto others is another thing entirely. Things like re-using postage stamps, always disappearing when it's your turn to buy the round at the bar or as Iz sees at work all the time, certain smokers who just never seem to have any cigarettes and are always scrounging and begging off others for a fag but never ever offering any of their own around on the rare occasion that they ever buy any - well Iz finds none of that impressive at all but quite disgusting in fact.
And the most disgusting thing of all, Iz can already imagine them chuckling to themselves on the plane and showing all the friends their holiday photos and raving on and on about the best holiday they ever had. Iz can already see the rest of those damn Dursleys booking their tickets for their four free weeks all expenses paid adventures in Oz.

Some folks are plain generous to themselves and others and others are stingy to themselves and others but the ones that piss off the Izzie most are those who will spare no expenses on themselves but will scrounge off other people without so much as a thank you and then inform these very same people who they are parasiting off about what a gorgeous pair of shoes or handbag or whatever they just bought in Louis Vuitton's.

And the strange and sad thing is - as cheap and nasty as these two are - they still have nothing to show for it.