Day 78, Zanders, Scarborough

Work.
I passed last nights test shift so now I’m enjoying my reward of running around carrying plates of mouth watering food and demolished portions.
All the smells from the kitchen and coffee have mingled into a general food smell; I’m no longer hungry. A storm’s roaring outside, blowing the plastic screens in the outside section in and splashing rain onto the tables.

Day 77, Napier St, Perth

Gardening again.

This time I’m pulling out weeds and raking mulch into their place in a shaded alley at the back of the garden. The sun’s warming my head and shoulders but ignoring the rest of my body, welcome in the midday heat. I can hear birds tweeting sporadically, quiet for minutes after each shovel into the gravel tears through their chorus. I can smell the compost through its shut lid, everywhere I look another weed seems to poke its head through the dry woody soil. My mouth still tastes metallic from sucking at the blister that’s formed pre-popped between my thumb and fingers. I sing inside my head and am aware of my own happiness.

Day 76, Napier St, Cottersloe, Perth

I’m weeding a friend’s garden for cash, my hands sore and a blister developing from repetitive sweeping. The sun’s warm on my hair and back, pleasant, not to hot to work though. I’ve just drunk a near cold cup of tea and can still taste it in my mouth. Even after sweeping for two hours leaves are falling and coating the paving. The sight of them makes me anxious.
The remaining plants smell fresh and slightly herbal but not a patch on the lilies that sit on the kitchen counter.

Day 75, Cottersloe beach, Perth

It’s taken a while to get moving this morning but I’m finally at the beach and the surf looks pretty good. The sun’s warm on the bare skin of my back and the heat intensifies the stench of seaweed. The smell, overwhelming and dirty at first quickly becomes supporting and natural. The stench of the sea. I’m excited and energetic, ready to get into the water. Coupled with the sounds of the waves and traffic, the trickling beach shower makes me need a wee. All the beaches here have beach showers, albeit cold and often water fountains too. Everywhere signs proclaim, “let only rain go down the drain, they go straight into the sea”.

Day 74, 400 bus, Scarborough to Perth CBD

I feel horribly nauseous, the bus is hot and stuffy and the smell of the dusty seat fabric gets right into my head. The windows seem to distort the city as it spins by us, wetter and wetter in the persistent rain, I’m thirsty, my mouth dry and sticky from my developing travel sickness.

Day 73, Western Beach Lodge Scarborough

I’ve been back at the mechanics all morning, leaning into the engine, sweaty and greasy. I’m now back in the kitchen with filthy hands and a slightly sore back inhaling the steam off a cup of tea. It tastes bitter and sharp, unsweetened it’s comforting and hot. My hands around it smell like strong gritty soap and slightly chemical from the mechanical oil and rags. I’m warm, equally so indoors and out

Day 72, All Autos’, Osborn Park

I’m standing in the open end of a garage and it’s pouring with rain outside. We’ve had storms all night on and off, now sun and then torrential rain and high winds. It smells like oil in here and wet concrete from outside. Occasionally someone tests an engine or shuts a door, breaking the rhythmical mechanical noises of people working. When the phone rings it’s amplified across the garage, shrill and distracting, I’m cold on my back where the rain’s soaked through my tee shirt to my back.

Day 71, Scarborough Beach

I love the beach and struggle with it at the same time, the constant dust from the sand and salt drying my fingers out, I constantly lick them to try to keep them moist. The result is worst case a stomach upset or at best I look like some sort of monkey. Much as I try to stop myself i can't seem to help it though. Todays as usual, i'm sitting there licking away, thinking that my saliva smells horrible but the salt tastes pretty good. As usual the waves crash down with backbreaking fury sending spray and surfers in all directions. I'll go and chance it too in a minute, even if just to keep me from my hands for a while.

Day 70, Scarborough Beach Road, Scarborough

This crossing disbles any ideas I have of personal safety before I approach it. The wait seems to be at least ten minutes (although probably much less), its definately far too long. A wide road to cross without and a fast one it becomes irresistable as we dash accross it, often barefoot and laden with surfboards, before the anxiety becomes too great. Today i'm waiting, for now, inhaling the thick smells of truck diesel and the leftover scar of a skid darkening the road and the air around it. Its noisy, car horns and screeching tires and somewhere beyond, just over the road heavy surf crashes.

Day 69, Kingsley, Perth

I've been visiting relatives a short drive north of the hostel. Its warm, the road clear and seemingly smoother than ever. The car's lovely and tidy although still smells a bit musty. My sunglasses are on the dash, reflecting the road behind like a second, darker rear view mirror.

Day 68, Stingray, Western Beach Lodge, Scarborough

I'm working up a bit of a sweat sorting the van out and taking the bed down. It's relaxing despite the job hunting to be staying in one place. It's dusty in here, everything I move seems to throw up more red road dust, tickling the inside of my nose. It smells familiar as I move our soft furnishings around. I miss it already. All around me are piles of our stuff, the more I tidy away the more seems to appear.

Day 67, Osborne Park, Perth

The job hunt takes me sweating in my jeans and thick black shirt to posh car salesrooms. Each one's the same, glass walled, over air-conditioned, even the cars barely change. That is except for this one, all shiny sports cars and huge four by fours.they smell like leather and car wax. It's cold in here but I'm sweating because of all the questions I'm being asked.

Day 66, Scarborough Beach, Perth

Job hunting again, this time close to our accommodation in the relaxed beachside suburb of Scarborough. I hover is the shade of a high rise hotel, trying to keep out if the persistent sun. I feel fresh and awake this morning, up at dawn for a surf, followed by a bracingly schizophrenic shower. My mouth's dry, my throat a little sticky, I forgot to bring my bottle of water out. The heavy waves thunder onto the beach menacingly, reminding me of my earlier fear when out in the, although the noise makes me want to get in again.

Day 65, Highway from Mount Barker to Perth

I think I could write a book on public toilets around Australia.

This one at a town rest stop is pretty good in that it's fully plumbed, more often than not they're long drop or dry (composting). Sometimes though it's the "wet" ones that smell and look the worst. This one encased in a low unlit concrete shell smelt of shit before I ever sat on it. I know better than to inspect the bowl now although an under seat bug check has become routine. It's cool in here, almost cold and the soothing wash of the next door urinal literally seeps in under the door.

Day 64, Denmark, WA

The small, picturesque town, set back slightly from the sea is alive with noise.

Overhead a banner declares "Denmark Voice Festival", and the dates of the current bank holiday weekend. We stand outside the bakery, inhaling the fumes of sweet cakes and meaty pies. Three people dance and sing, armed with a guitar, saxophone and the female vocalist, a baby. As the three sing, a slightly flat but energetic tune, he grabs at her, at air, joins in himself, smiling ecstatically from her back. It's sunny and warm, the atmosphere vibrant.