hard hats, hard goodbyes and a bali finale.

‘Oh, oh-oh … I got a love that keeps me waiting … Oh, oh-oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting, I’m a lonely boy’ –

Gosh, the episodes that are lust, work and hormones. I find myself drowsy on red and drunk on reassurance all too often;

Me: So it does get better? thought wise? … thought process wise? general fucking sensibility wise? We get better, yeah? We cope better right? We finally get it, yeah? … YEAH?

Older, wiser companion (basking in the glow of experience and my own inexperience, cracking jokes about tiny violins):
Of course! You’ll see! – you total twat.

Ha! How funny it will be when I can sit back, swirling the dregs of a decent Margaret River, with that ‘Oh to be young again,’ crinkled newspaper smile, whilst a twenty-something drama queen barely closes her motor-mouth between 700 Marlboro Reds and desperate gulps of Stella.

But the adventure is, I must say, always quite marvelous.

So. A new adventure is imminent. It’s been a while I know, but please understand alcohol monitoring, 4AM starts and a totally fucking surreal lifestyle has prohibited creativity, popular culture commentary and general life analysis quite dramatically. Especially when you are reduced to wearing this every day –

 

Yes, I look happy in the photograph but you get over it when you greet dawn with a pair of steel-capped toe boots and safety glasses on instead of a joker-esque, merlot mouth and a kebab in your handbag. Like normal people.

 

 

 

 

My life in the Pilbara has been a remarkable journey; what have I learnt?

Never, EVER complain about the heat to people that don’t actually work in an air-conditioned office.
The Scottish aren’t actually stingy (just the ones I’ve dated).
FIFO doesn’t mean Fly In Fly Out, it means Fit In or Fuck Off.
I like Germans, a lot.
Five pints of Stella is enough, whether you have to blow into a breath tester in the morning or not.
Tax is a mother fucker.
The phonetic alphabet.

Foxtrot uniform charlie kilo indigo november golf, oscar alpha tango hotel!

A few shots of MY Pilbara life:

 

Groundhog day when it comes to sunsets – in the best possible way …

 

 

 

 

Nikey, the refugee pup; lover and destroyer of Calvin Klein bras and Havianas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My day of climbing scaffolding and crawling under insulation pipes at ridiculous heights to take pictures for a brochure, aka: constant shitting of pants … but a lovely view.

 

 

 

At the local church/pub having our last supper/piss up before majority of staff left to go back to the homeland. Sad but happy times!

 

 

 

I’ve been three months with the one company on the Pluto LNG Project and it has been an experience and quite a wonderful one in many respects, if you can say that about working in construction.
I never thought I would be the fire-retardant wearing, safety glass adorning type but it is very self assuring when you can plonk yourself in a foreign situation and be more than OK with it. Yeah, I’ve learnt how to use Excel (properly) and how to write contractual letters and use boring systems and input data and blah blah but I’ve learnt, more than anything, how adaptable I can be and why challenging myself constantly is the best fucking way to go about things.

This sounds like Jerry Springer’s ‘After thought’ I know. But seriously. Cheers to the challenge!

Anyway, like I said, another one awaits! I have been offered a new job and a new, lovely, pay rise. But before that, YES –

I’m going to Bali tomorrow!

 

 

Hello old lover …

 

 

 

 

‘But I came to love you –
Any old time you keep me waiting, waiting, waiting …’

 

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