On our way to Kakadu...

At the end of my streta in Corsica, there is a dog, This dog has three legs, no hair, half a tail, one eye and I suspect is diseased with leprosy. Whenever I walk pass this rabid-looking mutt, I look at it with a mixture of profound pity and utter disgust. During the last 2 weeks, I have had the same feeling whenever I’ve looked at our car. So after a new front gear box seal, a new handbrake shoe and a good wash, our giant blackberry is up and running again.

So how about Darwin? Like most Australian towns we have seen, we found little that would warrant an extended stay. My desire to leave this place was heightened when I discovered that Darwin has five youth hostels. This inevitably means soap-dodgers. We had the bad luck to have to stay in one while our car was being repaired. To save on our pennies we took a dorm room, despite my obvious objections. Reluctantly, I dragged my unenthusiastic body into the room. Apart from the room being filled with dirt (old plasters, empty crisp packets, used tissues, three backpackers, filthy towels, odd socks etc), my attention was immediately drawn to the source of The Smell.

Imagine an airtight plastic bag filled with ripe camembert, age old Roquefort, monkey pee and then filled with fart gas. Now take this plastic bag and place it on the top of a rather tall sand dune in the Sahara desert. Ensure that it is in direct sunlight and that no shade can reach it. After three months take this plastic bag and throw it into a cesspit for a week or two. Finally, place the bag in a microwave and cook on full power for thirty minutes. Now open this bag and take a deep breath through your nasal passage. Magnify this smell by three and that is what I could smell when I entered the room. I didn’t need the help of Inspector Morse to locate the source. Laying on the top of a bunk bed on the far side of the room, I noticed a pair of feet, engrained with black, putrid filth. These feet belonged to a 20 something year old man who was furiously picking away at his nose. Nice. We left our bags on our bed and made a quick getaway to the Deck Chair Cinema.

It was a lovely experience to watch a film, sitting outside on a deckchair while eating roasted chicken, crisps and olives. It was even lovelier to have my feet caressed and tickled by soft fur. As I was engrossed by the film, it took me a little while to react to this. In truth, I only reacted when my wife gave me a quick jab to the ribs as she pulled her feet off the floor and onto the chair while pointing hysterically to the moving chicken carcass.

I gave the carcass a good kick and out popped an angry looking and rather greasy possum head. Despite my protests he continued to pillage the chicken. Once he had satisfied himself that he had all he needed he moved on to pester the couple in front of us. Cute little thing and incredibly persistent.