Well, our wonderful indigenous population has put us in the national news spotlight once again, this time with one of the notorious Mippy youths stabbing his girlfriend 11 times. Nothin' like good ol' family fun! Meanwhile, the rest of us go about our boring everyday business, putting out fires, grading the roads, running the fire brigade and volunteer ambulance service etc.
Pete, who runs the supermarket, has been donating funds to youth programs and all sorts of community stuff for years, and last month he pulled the plug when his car was broken into yet again and all of his family's Christmas presents and party supplies were stolen while they were inside the house, packing for their holiday break. He was also raffling off a quad bike at the store to raise money for one of the aboriginal youth programs - the aboriginal kids tried to break in and steal it. So Pete said, "Fine. No more community contributions from me." Good on him.
George (who we bought the bush camp from), has been having diabetes attacks at the hostel - one night Raylene found him unconscious on the lawn under the sprinkler, covered in ants, with a blood sugar level of 1.3 (which is almost "coma" level). We've rushed him to the hospital 3 times with crashing blood sugar levels! We're a low care facility, so George was managing his own insulin shots etc as normal, but it turns out that his dementia is getting worse and he's been getting the dosages mixed up.
Dave hasn't been able to get a mortgage yet, so the house is going on the market in April although I've given him first dibs if he does manage to get a loan by then. He's working like mad to get the house shipshape for me. He threw the Koreans out for stealing cutlery and other little items - things were going missing in threes. Three Koreans; three missing knives and forks, three missing bowls - you do the math. Two of them have managed to escape Meeka, but Mir is still trapped working at the supermarket. Lock up the plastic travel mugs, Pete!
Most of the town is off to a big party at Murchison Downs Station (60 km southeast) for Australia Day. Gary's taking his harmonicas and the band is getting back together for the day! I'm bringing cole slaw, barbecue meat and my camera so I take incriminating photos for The Dust. My humour articles are now a regular feature in the newspaper, and everyone wants to know when "The Meeka Diaries" are coming out (and can they be in it).
The wolves have decided that swinging off the towels on the washing line is great fun. They're frighteningly smart, and really naughty. We were lying in bed the other night listening to them woofling and banging around in the front yard and dragging things back and forth. "What in god's name are they doing?" moaned Gary. We listened a while longer. "It sounds like they're building a dog house," I said.
"Or stealing the car." We'll have to put the car key rack higher up on the wall, just in case.
No comments:
Post a Comment