If you got funk, you got style

We left Wallaman falls with a wet tent, but a spring in our step. For the next two weeks we’d be sleeping in a proper bed and shitting in a non-communal toilet, pure luxury. It wasn’t a palace, but we quickly set ourselves up and started enjoying having daily chores. First thing in the morning I’d go and feed the horses. Then, we’d check on the chooks and collect some fresh eggs,

Fresh eggs every day

and after breakfast do a few of our chores, such as working on the car and cleaning our camping gear.

You're lucky I'm wearing pants

After lunch we’d spend the rest of the day drinking on the balcony. At 5pm we’d go off to feed the horses again, tend to the ducks and chickens. It was a simple, enjoyable life and signalled the end of Bushman Tom, but the birth of his cousin, Farmer Tom.

Old MacGosden had a farm, E-I-E-I-O

By the end of the weekend we hit our stride, and Becky had fallen in love with the chooks. She was calling them her ladies, and as soon as we got close to their paddock, you could see them all running towards the gate. She seemed to get a kick out of stroking and handling them, and although they didn’t seem to love it, they never stopped stampeding over when ever she walked to see them.

Chook whisperer

I was even getting the hang of the horses, although I was a little wary of them at first. I started off walking up to them on an adjacent paddock, however on the third morning I almost stepped on a snake in the long grass, so I stopped doing that. I guess the fear of being bitten by a snake trumps my fear of being stamped to death by a hungry horse. Near the end, I’d even started grooming the male, Bruno, and I could tell he really appreciated the attention.

I guess that means he's happy

However, it wasn’t all peaches and cream living on acreage in the tropics. On the first Monday I got terrible shits, to the point anything that passed my lips would be coming out the other end as rusty pebble water within an hour. The main issue with this was a note left by the owners, who stated that they only had a small septic system, so if we had guests of >5 people for a few days we should be wary of filling it. They even told us to follow the rule “if it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down”. My stomach bug was ensuring I was definitely crapping for >5 people. So for the rest of our time there I watered their garden with my piss. By the next day I was feeling much better, and there was some texture to my bowel movements. However, that morning, after a terrible nights sleep, I awoke to a text from my friend, Jamie, living in NZ. The text said he had some bad news, and asked if we could talk. As we chatted on the phone he told me the devastating news that a mutual friend, Rich, who we’d both known for over 25 years, had died.

Most memories from my young adult stage involve Rich in some way. He was a true friend and we’d never lost touch. We went on countless nights out, day trips, and many times just sat about, as “youf” tend to do, doing nothing more than enjoy the company of friends. In 1994 we went to India together for several months, and as an 18yrold that had never left Europe (and had only been to a handful of places outside the UK), it caused such a seismic shift in my outlook on life that it left an indelible mark on the very core of my being. Much of how influential that holiday was is due to the fact I shared the experience with him. Rich was a true music fan, whose taste in music was so eclectic it can only be described as music itself. He left a music legacy in my life so big that most of the tracks I listen to today are in some way linked to him. He must have brought >20 cassette tapes to India, and shaped the soundtrack to the whole experience, so now a single note from any of those albums can fill my mind with a thousand sights and smells. The title of this blog is a reference to one of these tracks by Funkadelic. The reason this one brings back so many memories is because while we were in India we had a small, private joke in which we had changed the words in reference to something else. It is a silly, you-had-to-be-there joke that no one else would ever find funny, and sadly the only other person I could share it with is no longer here. I loved him, and I will miss him deeply.

Rich

My friends passing overshadowed the rest of our time at Mt Fox. We sat on the balcony, drinking and discussing life, the universe and everything else, only taking a quick break at lunchtime to watch Dr Phil. Over the weekend I had a video chat with Jamie in NZ, and another friend, Nick, in the UK, as we all mourned the loss of our good friend. Despite our immense sadness at the news, the animals still needed to be fed and tended to.

Calming and therapeutic

In the final week of our stay, I shaved off my beard leaving the 'tache in an attempt to cheer myself up. I felt stronger with the ‘tache and finally felt I could dominate the horses. Unfortunately I could only keep it for a day, as the next day we had some water troubles and I had to call the neighbour for help. We’d run out of water, and needed to pump more from the bore. I couldn’t get it to work and spent most of the day trying to work out the issue, with some help from their neighbour. I didn’t want to meet him with the ‘tache, so panic shaved it off. I regretted it for the rest of the stay.

Farmer Tom finds his look

By the end of our stay we were ready to move on. We’d arranged another house sit in Brisbane starting from the 23^rd and had given ourselves four nights to get to Brisbane and would spend one night staying with R&L before starting the house sit. We were sad to say goodbye to the animals, with whom we’d bonded with over the past two weeks, and Becky was especially sad to say goodbye to her girls, but were ready to leave the property in general.

Goodbye ladies, we'll miss you

It felt strange to load the car for the last time, and while we were both keen to leave Mt Fox, we were not looking forward to getting back in the tent and the four final nights of our road trip.