Forum Thermomix
Welcoming Center, Management and General Chat => Chit Chat => Topic started by: Nikkit on October 15, 2013, 08:11:56 am
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I thought some of you may want to have a laugh at my expense, so here's another story of me...
In the early 90’s I ended up in the Torres Straits. I had a few adventures and mis-adventures prior to getting there, and many once I was there, but they’re laughs (at my expense) for another time!
I had headed east as my folks wanted me to come home, I was on a pay phone doing the weekly “phone home” to Mum and she was begging me to head south. I was not ready to “settle down and be sensible” so dug my heels in, she asked me “Well where are you going then?” There was a small black board outside the phone box and on it was written Broome, Townsville, Cairns and the cost of the bus tickets. So thinking quick I said “I bought a ticket to Cairns yesterday, heading off in an hour, will call you next week when I get there, love you Mum, got no more change, my moneys about to run...”
I exited the phone box and went and bought that ticket to Cairns and the bus did leave in an hour! I arrived in Cairns exhausted from too many days stuck in that bus from Darwin vowing to never travel that way again. (I had done plenty of bus travel before, Perth to Carnarvon and return many times, Perth to Fitzroy Crossing, Derby to Darwin...never ever again!)
I found a backpackers, got my own room (I was not sharing with other backpackers and their rustling plastic bags at midnight, them trying to get into my bed as they were toddling through the door after 17 too many refreshments at the local, and the not so quite activities in a squeaky bed) and slept for a day or so. After a good feed that didn’t include bad roadhouse coffee and deep fried food I needed a job, so bought the local paper and started reading.
Barmaid wanted on Thursday Island, experience essential, over 20 years old, accom and flights supplied. Bonus! That was the job for me. I had experience, well, I did a bar course in Darwin, spent more on the paying side of the bar than the earning side, but gee, I knew the difference between beer and rum, I was 19 – that’s pretty close to 20, flights and accom supplied and it was an island! Yay – I was heading for the Whitsundays...oh yeah.
This is where I should have gotten a good map and had a bit of a gander!
So I ring and do the old phone interview, yep I’ve had experience, no I’m not 20, yep I can be there on the next flight, yep I can cook if I have to, no probs mate. Yep I can be at the airport tomorrow, easy. It’s in the bag, the job is mine. I’m thinking... Palm trees, beautiful beaches, Great Barrier Reef. Island life here I come.
Should have had a look at that map again...
I am on the plane and not worrying too much (courtesy of a couple of coldies on the flight) until the Captain does the “we are about to start descent into Horn Island, the weather is 25 degrees, blah blah blah” spiel. I’ve stopped breathing. Horn Island, no-one mentioned Horn Island, what about Thursday Island. Breath. Then the hosty says something about a bus and a ferry and other island transfers and I’m starting to panic, where on earth am I? I’ve gotten on the wrong plane. I frantically press the hosty attention button and she comes down to me. I ask her where the heck am I? She raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow and pulls out the in-flight magazine, flips casually to the page with the map on it, smiles and points to the very tippy tippy top of Queensland. I got the feeling she had done this a few times before!
Uh oh. I pointed to the Whitsundays and asked “are you sure we aren’t here somewhere?” She smiled again and shook her head, tapping a tiny dot off Cape York. This was in no way where I expected to be going, but hey, she’ll be right mate, I’m still in Queensland (just) still on the reef (not quite) still on an island ... but not the Whitsundays that’s for sure! She kindly reassured me that I would be taken to Thursday Island and I had nothing to worry about. I am sure she smirked and mumbled something along the lines of “fresh meat for the pub” as she walked away.
As it turns out there were 4 new girls with me heading to the same pub. They all had the same thoughts as me when it came to “where are we?”, so I wasn’t the only dopey blonde on the plane that day! I was the only dopey Aussie though – they had an excuse – they were all Poms.
And we were fresh meat for the pub! Life really got interesting for me once I hit the Straits.
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Brilliant story, Nikkit. You obviously survived and had a wonderful story to tell over the years ... I can't wait for the next episode "What happened next!!!". Hope we get the embellishments.
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Ink kit when do we get the next episode please? I can't wait to read about your adventures. How did your Mum feel about you being up there?
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Eagerly waiting for the next chapter Nikkit :D :D
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Looking forward to reading more!!!
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Thanks Nikkit for another great story. Looking forward to next chapter.
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Far out ladies - I spent about 4 years up there, there is gonna be more than one chapter!! Survive I did, but only just a couple of times! Some days I wonder how am I still here when I think back to what happened up there!
Mum was not overly impressed Cookie - but what could she do from down here when I was way up there! Mum and Dad did get up to TI a couple of times while I was there, I had a more respectable job by the time they came up though!
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I'm sure you wouldn't swap your life for anyone else's Nikkit. Just think, one day when you are much older, your grandkids will think they have one very cool Grandma when you relate some of these stories to them. Never stop telling your stories, you write them so well.
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Great story Nikkit. You will be pleased to know the pubs are exactly the same and fresh meat go up there frequently. There is a cultural centre there now so your mum would be pleased. The last time I flew up there I flew on to several other islands in the strait. The small aircraft was stuck together with wire and masking tape. Interesting.
Beautiful place with abundant seafood for the taking by walking out and picking up a huge crayfish by hand and spearing some glorious fish in clear clean water. No cyclones ever up there . You should come back.
Gert
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Oh Gert, is the "Spear Chuckers Arms" still going...I can't even remember the real name of that pub.
The Royal...that was it. A good place to drink if you had a death wish back then!
The planes haven't changed then....that is a chapter I'll tell later.
I do have many stories of my time up there.
And no Judy I won't swap! There's been a few things in my life I should not have done, but I have no regrets, no time for that. I am who I am...I've done more gravel roads than bitumen, and I think some of the time on the gravel roads was spent a bit side ways!
I'd love to go back, take my kids and show them where we used to live. Would be a huge trip down memory lane that's for sure!
More chapters coming ;D
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Pretty sure it is still there as is Jardines"Resort" , The not so grand Grand and The Federal. And the Gateway on Horn. Lots of watering holes for a small place. Such a beautiful part of Australia and sadly neglected.
Gert
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Yay Nikkit - a story!! ;D
And a great one at that! ;)
Reminds me of reading comics in the paper tho - have to wait til the next one to get the next bit of the story!!! ;) :D
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Thanks for a great story Nikkit. Keep the chapters coming. :)
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Jardines still there.
I have a friend that just did 3 years on Horn island..
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Great story Nikkit keep them coming :)
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Looking forward to the next instalment Nikkit ;D
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Ah obbie, I have a story about the Jardine...later.
And Gert - some about The Grand, The Fed and The Gateway too.
Ladies - here is the next chapter. You have got me reminiscing, so there'll be a few more yet!
While I was still working in the pub, one chap (I’ll call him Fred as I can’t remember his name now – can still see his face plain as day though!) that frequented the bar was annoying. Very very annoying. He drove everyone nuts one way or another. He would drive us crazy, continually being rude, crude and disgusting and always asking one of us to “put out” and when we politely or not so politely declined his offer he would then start putting $50 notes on the bar to tempt one of us. The pile was impressive – he was not! The boss lady (and I use that term loosely – she was no lady!) decided she could do with a bit extra and took Fred up on his offer many times, but then she was pretty mad (I’d seen her swinging off the security gate and wailing out the back most nights!) and wasn’t at all fussy.
A couple of yachties were in town, they were lovely and would come in most days to have a beer, lunch and a chat. One day even they’d had enough of Fred, he was in fine form after several dozen beers, the pile of cash was getting higher and they were sick to death of him, wondering how on earth I put up with all his carrying on! They came in with a small box of Epson Salts, quietly telling me that if I mixed one teaspoon into his beer it would give him the runs and he’d leave me alone. By this stage I’d had enough, I’d do anything to have an hour or 2 without him in my ear. We couldn’t turf him out on his ear as he was never rowdy or picking fights. We had complained to the boss, but in her eyes, money was money and it didn't matter how it got in the till or what we had to put up with to get it there!
So I did it! I mixed a teaspoon into his beer. He was too far gone by this stage to realise there were crystals in the bottom of his glass. I was attentive. I watched him like a hawk. I smiled and nodded and kept myself together when his belly started making horrendous growling grumbling noises that we could all hear. Fred started to sweat and then looked a bit pale and uncomfortable. He clutched his belly and groaned.
I asked if he was ok, he shook his head, his eyes were like saucers, he farted once, shot off his bar stool like a man possessed and with his legs crossed and his bum cheeks clenched firmly together with both hands he was out the back door to the men’s dunnies quicker than lightening.
I shot out after him – along with half the bar, who by now knew what was happening and we watched Fred somehow hold his belly, wipe the sweat from his forehead, hold his bum cheeks together and drop his daks and climb the steps all before he got the loo. The noise that emanated from the loo was incredible, the only thing missing was the lightening as it sounded like a wet season thunderstorm, the groaning sounded hilarious, and Fred did not come out.
I was in fits of giggles, the rest of the patrons were laughing and buying the yachties and me drinks and the packet of Epsom Salts was put up on a shelf for all to see.
About a week later Fred came into the bar again. (I got more than an hour or 2 in peace!) He didn’t look good, he was a bit thinner and still pale and quietly sat on his bar stool and ordered a lemonade. I had to ask him how he was feeling and where had he been as we really hadn’t missed him in the week that he had been gone. Fred looked at me and started to explain in great detail how he’d been crook, that he’d picked up a bait from somewhere and had spent the past week no more than 3 paces from the dunny.
I laughed and fessed up. I told him in no uncertain terms that he gave me and all the other staff the willies, we were all sick to death of him and his antics and unsavoury propositions and that I had dosed him with Epsom Salts. I pointed to the packet on the shelf telling him that was the bait he had picked up. Fred finished his lemonade and left.
A few days later he came back looking a bit better, sat down quietly and ordered a beer. (Keeping a good eye on me and the packet of salts up on the shelf all the time!) He then apologised to all and sundry and said he was a changed man and wouldn’t be like that again. He was pretty good from then on, but if he did start getting a bit ordinary to any of us, all we had to do was point up to the Epsom Salts and he pulled his head in real quick!
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LOL Nikkit!!! ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
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Good for you Nikkit, best revenge ever! Sounds like he learned his lesson too!
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Love it love it! Well done
Gert
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I'm not sure if I should feel sorry for Fred or not. :D I have a friend who's female partner is a Mrs Fred. Mmmm. Thinking about that I don't feel sorry for Fred at all.
Thanks Nikkit for another great story. I'm looking forward to the next one.
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Hehe. Guess where my DH is tonight.... At the Wongai on Horn.
TI is a beautiful place. Pity about the crocs! My dad had dreams of relocating us all to Prince of Wales island. The IBIS store wasn't big enough for my mother though.
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Glad you fixed Fred Nikkit, is there anything you can't do :D
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ROFL.
just what I needed after a day with the tradies and VERY HIGH WINDS!
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Great story Nikkit. :D