There have been a few issues with posting large blocks of text onto TN, that… and because I’m not good with these here computer machines I usually have rely to on my wife to post for me… I’ve decided to write straight onto the forum… so every week or so I’ll go back into it and a few lines here and there to make it flow a bit better… or just add stuff that I forgot the first time round…
So I’m sitting here at the computer machine… I have a long list of a thousand or more thing that need to be done… and that’s even before I get the important things, but I have things brewing in the cogs of my mind… It has been posted recently that there isn’t any adventure any more, I my self have recently looked down that path, but… back in the day when it was all going on, we weren’t actually having adventures we were just getting on with the job… ( Gav ) it wasn’t until a long time after… or a few beers after that we realised that an adventure had been had…
“Hay… mister… Abby… ah my friend… this you like… I can see you are man of honour… and you must have a beautiful wife… For her I think this would look good… My friend… my friend. your are Een-glazzy yes”
“No, no, mate Scotland” straight away I though why did I tell him that. There was a distinct smell of spice in the air, mixed with the underlying smell of stale cigarette smoke form the chap in the nice suit that was going to be my best friend until I could get rid of him…
" Ahh my friend, abbi… Scotland I have many abbies from Scotland… You know Jimmy Riddle■■? we are good friends"
I couldn’t remember what I was doing in the bazar, or for the life of me what bazar I was actually in… but it was comfortably warm and not the kind of place I wanted to leave to quick… What was round the corner? I had a scenes of curiosity, I had explore. I kept walking… stalls with meat hanging in the open, fish that I’ve never seen before… all there out in the open… no ice… just hundreds of flies to keep then company… a bit farther it changes to interesting looking brass pots, some shiny and plain, others bright colours. Just by looking I can tell they’re not mass produce… every one is individually made and hand painted… probably been done that way by one family for generation, crafts handed down from father to son… sold by mums and sisters… My abbi had now turned to his next victim as I made my way weaving and winding through the thronging crowd. Music and smells, sounds that were seldom heard in my home country filled the air…
The sounds… sounds… the kind sounds that busy people made when they’re confined in a covered space … but not captive… happy people that could freely move about… That distinctive bustling Middle East sound of their screeching pipes mixed with conversation in many different launguages , and that equally distinctive rhythm… not the kind of benign thing you get in Western shopping malls…the aromas that fill the air, people in Arab dress, Westerners, Indian, Asian and Afghan … and that instinct to explore even farther… but then there’s another sound coming in over the top…
A horrible kind of computerised jazz funk, and it’s getting louder…
“Is that your phone” my wife shakes me by the shoulder… " Your phone… ringing… phone"
The bazar disappeared in a instant … I was sure the trader I wanted was just round the corner. I still wasn’t sure what I was wanting, or even what he was selling… but now I’ll never know…
" It’s your phone, can you get it before you wake everyone else up" The shoulder shaking is now accompanied with rib poking, and some kind of gently leg kicking… I reach out to get the phone as I’m turning the other way to have look a the alarm clock… just in time to see my wife getting tucked back under the covers…I cant make out the clock… My eyes aren’t awake enough yet…
Who the hell thought that electronic muzak was a good idea, that used to be a great jazz song I remember hearing a few of the greats doing fantastic renditions of it… Now it’s been butchered by Samsung just to annoy me at what ever time of the morning it was…
" Get you phone before it wakens the whole house" says my half sleeping wife…
I don’t even know if I can speak! but I manage a very sleepy " Yep… hallo " well that didn’t sound to good, I was sure I was more awake than that… so I crock down the phone again… just as bad…
" HI mate… houzz it gaahn"
The bazar has totally gone now… I can remember being there, I think it as Istanbul or Bishkek… Samalkand would have been good, I was never there in real life… but in a dream it would have worked… maybe it would have turned into a giant cat or something strange like dreams often do…
" Yeh… Hi, what’s up dood" In my mind I’m thinking I’ve slept in, but I’m managing to focus on the digital alarm clock glowing in the darkness on the dressing table… 00 32… YOU HAVE TO BE &(*#ing KIDDING…
" Fancy an early start? "
"Sorry… who "
"It’s Chris, I can’t sleep… Fancy an early start? "
"When? "
"I was just about to get goin now if you was up for it… We’ll get a couple of loads each before the rush starts at 6 "
"What… A… Who is it "
“OK I’ll see you up there”
By this time I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, experience has told me not to lie back down, not even for a second. Outside the rain is getting lashed against the windows by the accompanying gale. Three minutes ago I was in a bazar, warm an cosy…
" Who was that" said a half sleeping wife… “don’t tell me you’re going in now”
“Well I’m awake now” I thought I was , but as I was getting up it quickly became apparent that even if my mind was awake, my body was still a bit reluctant… Of I staggered to the toilet through the darkness of the house. I know that putting on the light was bad idea and it would sting, but it would also wake me up a bit more…
00.38 That’s only about 3 hours kip I’ve had, I’m not 25 any more… splash some water on my face… look in the mirror…
“Look at you…you daft old bugger… what the hell are you doing… go back to bed… you don’t need this crap… there must be a better way to make a living than this… It’s bad enough starting on time at 2 am but this is just stupid… Who the hell invented half past midnight… it’s not a time it’s a punishment…”
I’m getting about doing my stuff, trying to be quiet, don’t waken anyone up… then it dawned on me… Where the heck an I meant to be loading. Yesterday at the end of shift the yard hand told me, 4 loads out of the Puzzle… but before I got out the office that had been change to 3 out of Moogara… then that got change to… see me at the start of the shift and we’ll see what kind of work the night shift has done, see how much wood’s left on the landings. and work it out from there… I think there’ll be truck in the yard… the guy I’m sharing with’s of for the start of the week so I should be right to go…
Smell… toast… where’s the marg… was a time when I would have had butter…that used to taste good… I like butter… but no … not now… you have to be good… Butter Bad… Polly unsaturated good… Taste like axle grease… anything that’s tastes good is bad for you…you can’t even have a bacon and egg roll any more… down here it’s an egg and bacon roll, if you ask for a bacon and egg roll they look at you funny… not as stupid as pouring half a pint of gravy into a brown paper bag full of chips… they don’t have a problem with that… now that’s stupid… they still haven’t worked that one out yet…
I should make lunch… can’t be arsed… I’ll have a bacon and egg roll from the Eagle snack bar later…can of Coke as well… just watch me I’m a rebel…
Toast with marg, fill my water bottle… got my time sheets… camera…batteries charge… Hi Viz… Hard hat…Kiss wife… kids… I forgotten something… no… must be something… ah yess go back to bed… no,no ,no can’t do that… Boots on…out the door… back in for my Hi Viz jacket… it’s still chucking it down… going to get a soaking today…
Jeff…