In spite of wad­dling locals with voices like swamp frogs and the tat­tooed pub denizens, Aus­tralia is not such a bad place. Life is almost too easy, and the facil­i­ties are won­der­ful. It is a pity that it is so damned expen­sive. I could almost, but not quite, break even on the money front. By liv­ing fru­gally, I could gen­tly sink into Aus­tralian poverty for a lit­tle time, while dream­ing of head­ing off, per­haps, to live like a king on my pen­sion in some low-cost cor­ner of the world.

Stranded at yet another celes­tial bus stop on life’s jour­ney, I pon­dered on how to save cash. The solu­tion was famil­iar: split the rent in a share house with some char­ac­ters allot­ted by fate. This time it was three women and an appren­tice uphol­sterer. When I moved in, the lady owner had mes­sages to her god stuck all over the walls, so I had to decon­t­a­m­i­nate my room of holy spir­its imme­di­ately. She was not a bad old stick, and one day sud­denly fell head over heels in love with a plumber, who decided to take her around the world. Con­tinue read­ing →