First proper night of fire & rescue training. I learned how to check the BA (Breathing Apparatus) equipment, which is stored in the trucks in these cool racks that slide out into position so that you just step into them. On each set is a motion sensor alarm - when you're kitted up, it will start shrieking an alarm if you stop moving. This is so they can find your roasting motionless body in the inferno. Each one is numbered so they know who they've found ("211 is toast!"). The chances of me ever having to use one are remote, but we get to do a BA fire fighting course this year anyway. It will come in handy every time the aboriginal kids set fire to the school that our tax dollars have spent millions on to help them overcome their disadvantaged lifestyle & provide them with opportunities to move to more urban centres, where there are bigger buildings to burn down.
It's hard not to be cynical when we're out in the fire brigade driveway, checking the equipment & trucks (well, the equipment that hasn't been stolen in the semi-regular break-ins, that is), literally surrounded in the street by about 20 or so aboriginals ranging from five year olds to adults, all screaming filthy insults at each other, throwing beer cans & smashing things at the house next door. This is 6:30 at night. There are no aboriginal people volunteering at fire & rescue or the ambulance service; they would be welcome if they applied. I know it's not like this everywhere, but it still messes with your head.
Anyway, all good fun at the fire brigade; we all had a cold beer after doing the chores & the blokes tried to accommodate the presence of a "lady" (where? where's the lady? can anyone see a lady?) by spelling out any swear words and saying "Arh sorry love" when one slipped out. Like my delicate little lady ears have never been sullied by rough language after seven months in the outback. Hellooo...
We have Paul, one of the school teachers, Greg the Garbage Guy, Tyler (12?), Mex (young Kiwi who's been here three weeks & is freaking out), Ryan (possibly clinically insane, the first person you would point the finger at for mystery arson incidents), Other Guy With Sock Tan, and of course Cam & Gary, who weren't there tonight. I think there is one other woman but apparently she is rarely seen.
Gary rang on the satellite phone from Peak Hill to warn me of a couple of washouts on the track & to request more supplies ("we're gonna need more grog!"). I'm glad there's a sat phone out there - they can use it to call fire & rescue if I get swept away in the creek. I just hope they don't send Ryan.
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