Feels Like Home...

Don't worry, I'm not staying here forever or suggesting Stisted is anything like Wollombi, well actually there are some striking similarities. Wollombi is a very small village (spread out over a large area) with a local pub featuring some friendly patrons, that I visited today, not unlike Stisted's pub which features friendly locals, although the beer is slightly better in Stisted, it's proper ale for a start and it's a bit warmer which is something we all could have done with today as the English weather caught up with me.

The green hills are lush for a reason, and that reason is rainfall! And it has been rain-falling for most of the last 24 hours.

Now the title of this post makes more sense. Mud, water and rain.

The rain didn't let up all day as I mulched some more fruit trees, took a ute load of rubbish to the dump with Nico (an Italian guy who's lived around this way for ages) and chopped some wood for the log burner, yes we have resorted to burning logs as the temperature in the valley is a little lower than expected at this time of year.

But what is November without a roaring fire? As an Englishman I see no problem with getting wet socks and working in the rain in November. I have also been invited to maybe help Nico out with his painting/building work and I've met some more artistic types, something Wollombi is full of, and had a nice discussion about how American actors can't act without over doing everything and that the Brits have got acting down to the finest of arts (and that's an Aussie that said that). I didn't mention that I played the Lion in the Wizard of Oz back in the day, I'll save that for another day. I did mention that I can rite wordz realy gud, which led to us all agreeing that an artist cannot create unless they are miserable, hence the amount of alcoholics in the literary world.

"These hangovers are a sign I'm a great writer" - William 'Shakey' Shakespeare

I call this one 'Bug Bath'

I call this one 'Banjo's Backside By Blazing Burner'

For now I'm off to eat some dinner and listen to the rain on the tin roof as the fire burns away. Of course the frogs and crickets are backing up the soundtrack with their vocals/leg rubbing, but the rain is definitely providing the beat. So here's a soggy Ryan signing off, until next time, keep your feet dry!







Update: The rain has ceased for now and dinner was lovelly (I forgot to mention, Lesley was a chef in a past life). I never thought I would ever have a chicken and beetroot lasagne (the beetroot leaves were a good addition).