I found hundreds of slater looking bugs under my parsley pot, so I put it up on bricks. I then did some washing, hung it out, waited until it began to suddenly and heavily rain, ran back out, got wet, and rehung it in the garage. I then made my way into town and bought fourteen types of blue flower seeds, and planted them out the front.
Clint arrived. We walked up to the charity bin to discuss life, then half an hour later or so, drove up to Mt Beerwah. We left for our walk around 3 o’clock. There was supposed to be a moon, but due to thick cloud cover, it was pitch black. Clint climbed ahead, with a headlamp that randomly turned itself off, without any guarantee it would ever come back on—although with suitable banging, it always did. I followed behind, with my mobile phone in my mouth—not the brightest light, and probably not very good for my mouth or the phone, but it worked. We stopped frequently to discuss exciting and relevant topics, not wanting to get to the top hours before the sun came up. Once at the top we sat, slowly freezing, until the sun began to rise, and then climbed back down.
Photos by Clint Felmingham.
We found the rear quarter glass on one of Clint’s car doors cleanly removed, and his sunglasses and my bag missing. The car itself was nicely locked and didn’t seem unusual, apart from the missing quarter glass. Despite having intentionally removed all the valuables from my bag before leaving the car, it still had my keys, some clothes, and toiletries in it. Even more annoyingly, and somewhat stupidly, upon reflection I couldn’t guarantee that it didn’t also contain my address, as I had an envelope with a few jotted down notes I had written in my bag, and while the envelope itself wasn’t addressed to me, it may have been redirected via my parent’s, in which case they would have scribbled my address on it.
Clint and I drove to Beerwah police station, reported the break and enter, found perhaps the cheapest restaurant in Australia, in Nambour, ate half of the huge bowl of chips they gave us, missed the train back to Brisbane again, unsuccessfully chased it again, and again caught a rail bus, connecting to a train at Caboolture. The train ride wasn’t that pleasant, having had my spare clothes and toiletries stolen, I was covered in dust, dirt, chalk, blood, sweat and mud.
I phoned Mum, who gave me the brand of the pack that was stolen, which I forwarded on to the police. While highly unlikely, if anyone does find my pack, I may now get it back.
I bought new essential toiletries.
I changed the locks, on the off chance that my address was in my stolen pack, along with my keys, and the criminal would switch from motor vehicle break and enter to the far more serious house break and enter.
I applied for a few telecommunications jobs.