Of books, blogs and shared memories . . .

I'm sure some of you are familiar with the science fiction and fantasy books of Dave Freer.  Like me, he's a former South African.  I moved north-west to the USA, whereas he went south and east to Flinders Island off Tasmania in Australia.  He and his wife blog about their lives there at Flinders Family Freer.  (Dave has other blogs, too, which you'll find listed on his Web site.)

I've been reading the archives of Flinders Family Freer, which go back to 2009, covering the family's preparations to emigrate and their account of starting a new life in a new country.  I'm enjoying their story, having gone through a similar process in this country.  One early entry that made me howl with laughter, and brought back many memories, was Dave's account of discovering a gecko (a small lizard) in his trousers.  I've found one in my shirt before - and believe me, when you're not expecting it, its sudden scrabbling against your skin as it tries to get away can motivate you to wonderfully athletic maneuvers in an attempt to get rid of the interloper!

For your entertainment, I've taken the liberty of reproducing Dave's gecko encounter here.

My sister's place is well-populated with rather inefficient geckos (inefficient, like they are not keeping up with the mosquito overpopulation) They're translucent pink slightly googly eyed plump beasties with remarkable wall-and-ceiling climbing ability and even more remarkable falling off the ceiling into dessert ability.

We left the farm in the torrential rain, and therefore in the chaos of packing up have some things which were best abandoned including a pair of trews which have the distressing habit of falling off, possibly at the dire shame of a couple of holes in the bum. They got tossed in a throw-out/rags bag when we got here. Perfect for the wet and soapy task of tent scrubbing I thought...

With my mind on other things I pulled them on... only to find I was sharing my trousers with a previous occupant - The Gecko wasn't much happier than I was at this situation.

I went straight up vertically with a dulcet cry and absolutely no foul language.

Unfortunately so did the gecko. (Not sure what it said, don't speak much gecko). The Gecko hastily tried to run the other way -- unfortunately I too was inverted on bed trying to remove said trousers. Trousers which normally descend with no viable excuse are being stubborn. Best reason for kilt wearing I have come across for years. Anyway frantic all-round scrabbling - with funny little feet running all over bits on which feet are not welcome, results in a 3 way split. Lizard, me and trousers in different corners of the room. Gecko with baleful googly eye stare dives behind some books, doubtless on his way to the ceiling to drop a token his appreciation on the bed. I gather myself and put on the trews... a twitching gecko tail slowly cascades down my leg.

The tent scrubbing was less of an epic than we expected, with the only exciting bit being me attempting to use a watering can to was soap off the dirty spot I'd given a second scrubbing to. Ugly scenes ensued when rugged-I'm-not-afraid-of-creepy-crawlies Dave had no water come out the spout - then a wet Gecko plopped onto the tent, hurtled across my foot (and thank heavens not up my leg) to go and write a fairly harsh letter to the gecko and allied trades union. I have no idea how I came to be 10 yards away from the scene.

I would like to inform the powers that be that I really do not need any more close encounters of the extra gecko kind in my trousers. I am quite happy with the status quo.

The entire blog is well worth reading, as are Dave's books.  Recommended.

Peter