The Lair of the Emerald Serpent

It looks like the rain is here to stay. I can’t complain. It is winter after all and we need all the rain we can get in this bit of this wide brown land. But it did mean the odds were not in favour of watching a big fat full moon rising.

( Bad Moon Rising )

Yesss. I thought that was all ancient history. It must be the full moon. It brings out all those memories of madness.

The garden is filled with the intoxicating scent of pine needles and tree bark. A most unexpected surprise indeed

Returned from this morning's goblin taxation class to find the verge overflowing with an enormous pile of mulch. Freshly chomped up street tree prunings literally delivered to the door. Had signed up way back in November for the 'Free mulch" service and kept renewing the request every four weeks as required. Had pretty much given up hope. There usually is no such thing as a free lunch but the logic behind the business is that tree loppers and lawn mowing contractors often have to pay to get rid of their waste so that if they can have a network of gardeners offering a drop off point then everyone gets to benefit.

So it was a most delightful delivery indeed. Pity the news is not so good on the roof front. These buggers have been playing the waiting game. Rang several times in the last week or so to find out when they are coming back to do the job that should have been finished back in early February. They have finally replied. But it just so happens that the date they have chosen is the Friday kept reserved for the annual garden festival. Thursdays are out due to the goblin taxation course and weekends are pure pandemonium at any sort of event as that's when all the crowds are there


Here's hoping the buggers finish the job and don't come up with yet more excuses. It would be awful to end up with a roof still leaking and missing out on the gardening show

On the camp nano front, still not yet unleashed the Zombie Deck of Doom. Went to the writers group instead of lurking around the Lair carting barrows of mulch or tossing several thousand words on the Camp nano fire

It looks like the icky sticky sizzling weather is back to bother us. Having the month of March dead buried and cremated is no longer a guarantee of cooler weather

Today was a simply gorgeous chilly crisp and crunchy day. In spite of a 1am bedtime all the omens indicated the best of all possible days. The weather and the delicate light at this time of year confer a special kind of magic and nostalgia for the pale faint light of Europe. This time of year is the nearest we get to it. In summer there is a bleached out effect as the brightness of the light is so overpowering

Winter time is porridge time. No Uncle Toby 30 second powdered oats for this ever so discerning serpent. The six dollar bag of biodynamic kosher deliciousness from Kojonup is down to its last quarter. The usual ritual is to soak the oats in water overnight and then add milk in the morning. Very tasty and delicious and dirt cheap.

Sat outside facing west lapping up the sunshine with the Izzie in one chair and the bowl of porridge in another watching the birds and listening to a fascinating story about Woodside and its collusion with our Emperor Colin Barnett to trash yet more pristine beaches and land.

This speaker Geoffrey Cousins used to work for the Lying Rodent so was especially impressed by his admiration of Bob Browne and his excellent demolition of every single argument in favour of the James Price Point gas hub. Especially disgusting was the bullying tactics of our emperor towards the original Aboriginal owners of the land in the area. Sign up and we will give you 33 pieces of silver. If you refuse we will take the land anyway and you won’t get a single cent.

Colin Barnett is a disgusting goblin with no concept whatsoever of the sacred or sublime and an extremely inflated sense of his own importance. He is not only happy to trash Aboriginal sacred sites but has no regard for those of the white people either such as Hale House and the Esplanade which he wants to turn into a mosquito infested swamp. Betty’s bog not Elizabeth Quay will be the most accurate description of this abomination. But worst of all is the murder of many old Moreton Bay Fig trees

If only the Dementors had never preyed on the previous Premier ‘Good News’ Geoff Gallop and replaced him with an utterly arrogant smarmy git, then Labour would have won the 2008 election and spared us the Monsanto invasion and the trashing of so many sacred sites.
But back to the present moment. It was a gorgeous day and Izzie was one contented serpent in spite of the premonition that the old toad would be once desecrating our owleries with more of her filthy stinking howlers this day or the next. With a bit of luck the bosses from state HQ would be keeping her otherwise occupied in preparation for the big bad government box tickers.

( back on the road )

Izzie has been a very good serpent keeping away from temptation. Managed to slip in another “Buy Nothing Day” in the midst of some very hectic holidays. Slinked about the Lair in the afternoon indulging in sunshine and doing a bit of gardening. Even managed a feeble attempt at cooking dinner rather than going for the usual fix of bread, cheese and peanut butter. It is the peanut butter that has become a bit of a worry of late. Aside from the half blind serpent eyes now struggling to read the labels, the food labeling laws here in Oz are a complete joke. Made in Australia from ‘local and imported’ ingredients is such a meaningless load of twaddle and a bit of serious arse covering. The usual excuse spouted by the juice manufacturers in particular is that it is too expensive changing the labels throughout the year as their fruit supplies go in and out of season

( Munchies and other mundane matters )

But the one thing on the supermarket shelves that makes all this junk look perfectly sensible are those pathetic plastic bottles of water. Not the distilled stuff you put in your steam iron so that it does not rust but plain boring old drinking water.
Why do people drink the stuff when it doesn’t even have bubbles and you can get a thousand litres of perfectly decent drinking water delivered to your tap for less than half the price of a mere litre of this plastic stagnant muck?

There’s no refunds on the plastic bottles so they end up in the bin or strewn all over the streets and beaches.
Giggled with amusement at the Mount Franklin stuff from the eastern states provided by the same folks that gave us the corn syrup confection known as Coca Cola. Then there is Fiji Water and the ridiculous yuppie Norwegian stuff in the designer glass and metal bottle that costs more than a bottle of decent red wine.

Even the supermarkets have jumped on the band wagon with their own brands which are probably straight out of the tap.
They all loudly proclaim their green credentials if not in the name then a whole bunch of ticks, pictures of frogs or associations with environmental causes.

But the best ever and seemingly the new kid on the block has recently made an appearance at the local supermarket. There was a huge pile of these blue plastic bottles at the end of one of the centre aisles in one of the best spots of real estate in the whole store.

The brand name was Masafi and it pictured a fern and all sorts of intriguing details about some ancient source of spring water, nature’s gift and the usual spin. Oh and of course the plastic bottle was recyclable (but no refundable deposit as proof of genuine green credentials)
But the killer was the small print. Had guessed at New Zealand, Nauru or some other cash strapped Pacific Island. Not at all. Izzie was not fooled by the ominous initials U.A.E. In fact they were the source of much glee and hysterical cackling. You know the world is gone stark raving mad when the Arabs are exporting water to the rest of the world. Proof positive that the oil must be really running out.

They will be selling us ice cubes next.

Just been googling this strange brew only to discover that the company has been at the centre of assorted scandals and recalls of its bottles due to high levels of bromates. Looks like the recall centre has turned out to be the local IGA supermarket in this far flung corner of Oz.
But they have just unveiled a new marketing campaign so we can all sip safely knowing that the spin doctors are strutting their stuff.


The 'Drink Natural' campaign, which runs till June 30, 2012, is focused on the 100% natural freshness of Masafi mineral water, reinforcing its core message through a slogan - 'Naturally Natural'.
The campaign communicates the natural attributes of Masafi mineral water, which has been executed with an emotional touch, effortlessly reflecting human's oneness with nature.


Izzie can sniff the source of a juicy story a mile away and this is the sort of stuff you could not make up. Even a visit to the supermarket can provide hours of inspiration

Izzie's seriously cranky and crabby and a total slacker on the squiggling front. A new month and a new beginning has not got off to a good start

Saturday and Sunday were reasonably good. Went to the Subiaco farmer's market which is held in the grounds of a 100 something year old primary school. Lots of trees and beautiful old buildings. But unfortunately the place is infested with children so pottered off to the crazy old hippie permaculture gardens next door and the old church converted into an op shop for a bit of peace and quiet
Had frequented this location a lot in November armed with a netbook and a book of H P Lovecraft stories from the local library. So did the same again for the sake of nostalgia and was duly inspired with ideas for a title and characters for this November's nano novel. Pity that it's still pretty plotless

Work is also fairly good on the weekend. The goblins and monsters aren't there and then there was the elephant in the room. An interesting evening at Petunia's to look forward to.

Last year the ma joined the masochists for the Dry July charity fund raising event. This involves giving up booze for a whole month. But being Aussies, - the assumption is that people will cheat so for every drink you pay an honour fine of $25.
This year she suggested that the serpent join too. No harm in trying we thinks and it certainly beats doing it for Lent
The Izzie has a policy - "Always keep your word" but the small print adds "Never give it"
The ma did not think that the tipsy serpent would last and maybe she still thinks that a glass or two got gobbled but Izzie is not admitting it.
Obviously there's no point in not cheating if the aim is to raise money for charity but doing the whole 31 days without cheating - making the commitment and sticking to it is also a matter of honour, keeping one's word or whatever one calls it
And was so looking forward to gobbling a glass or two at midnight over at the ma's place
She'd decided not to wait until midnight but the serpent was being a stickler for the rules. No point in lasting the whole 31 days only to give up within a cats' whisker of the finish line

In the end, we were both too tired to stay up for the witching hour. Too tired to gobble the bottle and too tired to potter about in Cyberia. But was still happy with the achievement of lasting the whole 31 days and not being tempted by the dozen bottles in the broom cupboard under the stairs
In some strange way - it was sort of like last year's national novel writing month. It is the things that you invest the most time, energy and commitment to that you value the most not the things that you can just go into a shop and buy - even though having the money requires the commitment to earning it and saving it. But somehow it is not quite the same

So there's Izzie looking forward to coming home from the house elf job on Monday afternoon, scrubbing the scales and then sitting in the garden soaking up the sunshine with a glass or two of red. It was nice but not as nice as anticipated. But what was so strange - within an hour or so was totally zonked and slinked off to the serpent basket at the ungodly hour of 6pm and slept pretty much straight through until 10pm.
And then felt cranky and grumpy the next day.
Decided to wait until much later on Tuesday to try a tipple and this time only one glass not three. The effect was much the same. No crankiness that time but the happy serpent state soon evaporated at work when finding out about a whole pile of cheapskate nastiness going on. But that's for another post.

So since there's a feast of Gruen Nation tonight with lots of evil adverts from the campaign trail, will stay away from the bottle of red until then in case the same thing happens again

Still got to think of how much to give to this cancer charity since the whole point of the annual event is to raise money rather than detox the livers of the nation.
The ma is going to give the amount she would have spent on booze for the month if she had been drinking but that is a bit too generous thinks the Izzie.

So now needing to work out if the sudden onset of crankiness since yesterday is to do with the booze or just a bunch of crazy hormones on the rampage.
The next two days should provide some evidence