OK I'll take pity on everyone, but you won't be satisfied. Pam turns out to be an older aboriginal lady living at the Wingo's. I think she is legally Elaine's "carer" although this description begs some loose interpretation in a household where I have a sneaking suspicion any meals on wheels food is ferociously seized and fought over by whoever happens to be in the house at the time.
I have NO IDEA why everyone keeps asking where she is. Perhaps she is some kind of matriarch, or has all the dole money, or a clandestine hydroponic tobacco farm in the back room. If I ask why everyone keeps asking where Pam is, I get answers like "Oh that Pam. She at Wingo's maybe". I would make a very poor field anthropologist; I'd be hitting people with my tent pole, shouting at them to make sense & get a grip on themselves while their eyes rolled around in a pre-conscious stone age daze.
Today I finished painting the back bedrooms. As soon as it's dried and the idiot dogs have stopped blundering on the wet paint & smearing it on the hallway walls I'll be able to move out of the tiny cramped spare bedroom where most of my stuff is stacked up away from all the plaster dust. I painted the floorboards a reddish brown orange, the same colour as the dirt we keep tracking in. Boy now has an orange-tipped tail, the idiot. Gary is STILL away in the bush with work - either that or he's run off with a mine field officer or died of heat exhaustion in the cab of the loader. It's a bugger not having phone reception out there. I'm sure someone will drop his desiccated corpse & filthy washing off in my front yard when they're passing by, though - that's the friendly outback way.
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