Blog Time Again

Hello internet,

So it's Sunday, and I'm going to write in this every Sunday. Just when I thought there was no chance that could keep a regular diary or journal I surprise myself by sitting down to my third entry in as many weeks. As Spaggers would say in his Italian accent: Not too bad.

The past week was a bit of slack one, work-wise, but I managed to get off my monthly report to all concerned. I also went back out onto the ice and did my drilling duties again, this time with the station leader, Ali. That was cool and we're still convinced, despite popular opinion going against us, that the holes that we've seen in the ice are not from a seal, but rather from meteorites. I think rejecting the meteor theory is like Kafuka in Sayonara Zetsubo Sensei saying ""How could [fantastic thing], something I've only seen on TV or in the newspaper, exist so close to me? This is obviously [improbable explanation]." I'll have to get some photos next time and put it out there... I mean how could a seal wear its teeth down grinding through 600mm of ice for a breathing hole and then just leave it to freeze over again, so that it would have to go and do it again? Anyway, that doesn't seem like a good habit to get into if you want to survive with your teeth intact, live and procreate.

Also, It's likely that I just want to believe in the meteor.

So the last few days of my life on station have been pretty social. We had Friday night in the bar, sitting around having a great laugh. Not much to speak about there. I tried to relay a description of the conversation that night to Bianca and the only thing worse than telling a 'had to be there' joke to someone face-to-face is writing it in an email. I still sent it off anyway. By the end of the night, there were five of us at the bar, practically in tears!

Then the next day, after I went to the gym, Hellboy put on a game of 'Beersbee' in the Green Store building, which is the storage facility for practically everything on station. Inside is an electrically-powered compactus that moves at the push of a button, which is fortunate because each of the aisles is about 3 stories high. Hellboy and Spaggers had moved all the aisles to one side and set up the playing court. Now, Beersbie is a game that combines two of Hellboy's favourite things. As Roachy, the electrician who lives in the room next door to me would say "three guesses as to what those things are and the first two don't count". So, first two PVC pipes, about 1.2m in length are stood up on their ends and opposite ends of the corridor. Then an empty can of carlton draught beer is placed gingerly on each of the upright pipes. Behind these precarious structures stand the participants from each team. Each team usually had about three people, and we had two frisbees that flew beautifully and a bucket lid that flew fairly well when hurled at dangerous speeds. The object of the game is that the teams take turns and each member of the team throws a frisbee (or bucket lid) at the upright PVC pipe, knocking it over. If you knock the can and it hits the ground, you get two points. If the other team catches the can, that's nothing, and you have to drink. If you miss the pipe, the frisbee wasn't 'uncatchable', and the other guys don't catch it, it's one point. The game was cool. I think Adam was the best wickie keeper and caught about 3/4 of the cans we knocked off, which was "f'n annoying" whined Hellboy. Yeah it frickin was. It was perfect timing though one time when the timed lights flicked off when Adam was in mid-dive for a classic catch of the carlton can. Tom the Plumber said "hey, we all play with the timed lights!". That we do, Tom, that we do.

Anyway after those shenanigans it was time for Saturday dinner. Every Saturday at Davis the tables in the mess are moved out from their lineup and pushed together to make one huge table. The tablecloths, candles, collared-shirts, ties, wine, and sometimes even station-supplied liquor come out, and the chef puts on an extra-special spread for all of us. This time it was slow cooked pork fillet, a chicken dish that I've unfortunately forgotten the name of, huge king prawns with seafood sauce, and vegies, finished off with a rich chocolate pudding with chocolate sauce, cream and ice-cream. When I was doing my training in Hobart, I remember hearing that most of the people that come down here put on weight during the course of the year. Now I can see why. I didn't imagine that I'd have to come to Antarctica to eat this well. We then went to the bar and watched Sam Stosur lose the tennis. Bugger. Yeah, we aren't doing it that tough; we can eat prawns and pudding and stream TV and radio.

When I get back I reckon I'm going to be totally useless in the kitchen, not having made anything on a regular basis for 17 months. Other things that I will unfamiliar with: paying for things, not saying hi to everyone I see, walking on concrete, trees, humidity, traffic, most of the music from the past year, anything new from the past year. The list goes on but being deprived and separated from the things that I'm familiar with has given me so much food for thought and allowed me a realignment of perspective. I won't go into my intimate thoughts, but I will say that my time down here has been, and will continue to be, a life-changing experience.