Hi one and all,
this blog really belongs to Ned, a retired Post Gnome who has given up the bush trails for a more comfy life amongst us. Ned is like a lot of gnomes, secretive, suspicious of us humans, until he gets to know us then, you're stuck with him! He moves in and bingo, it's like having an annoying distant relative who comes to live with you and while he does things that are well intended, they come from a gnomish background and he can't help but get things wrong.
He started off living in my studio with Harrold, Mordred and Rachael, but as the youngster of the group, the prank player, the mess maker and the forever moving one, the others agreed that he needed to relocate to the house where I apparently could keep an eye on him.
Ned has taken to his new life as a house-gnome with great enthusiasm. The spider population has decreased along with the fly and other insect varieties that arrive to annoy us, but I failed to gain his cooperation with the ever increasing snail population. Apparently the crunch to slime ratio is all wrong and they are no fun to chase!
Ned is currently packing his post satchel to go on a trip with us soon. I am hoping to get a look at what he's packed before we get in the car. I don't want his "snacks" wandering loose in the car to turn up at the most inappropriate times, like while we are doing 100km on a highway and they come scuttling across the windscreen.
I'll keep you posted! (All puns intended)
Ned is not in the best of moods. The Pixies ( I had not been able to confirm my suspicions of their existence in the house until now) have raided his postbag and have stolen it and literally destroyed his most treasured notebook within, the pages of which they scattered in the garden for the snails. The metal ring and buckle had been removed due to the bindings being worn and loose, to be repaired, therefore the protection afforded the bag by their close attachment was removed, allowing the pixies free access after years of waiting! Their theft and destruction of Ned's belongings was wanton and left Ned so sad and disappointed that I immediately assured him that I would create a new one for him and provide a new note book. He thanked me, but said it would not be the same. Nevertheless, I sorted through my stash of materials, bits and bobs and found suitable items to make Ned a new satchel to take on our trip.
Anyway amidst mutterings of "horrid little beasties" Ned spent the day searching through the garden, looking for scraps of his notebook, but gave up in disgust as most at best, had holes chewed through them, the remainder were limp and slimy and Ned refused to touch them.
I presented Ned with a new notebook I'd bought with the face of a character from a television movie, who was made from a plant and only said one word that somehow managed to convey his many thoughts. This along with a new ball point pen, made Ned very happy and he forgot his misfortune completely. He had said to me "at my age (336), you can't let little things like this worry you for too long. Anyway, I have a long memory and a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to dealing with Pixies, I've had a lot of experience with them over the years!"
Day 1. Ned was standing on the bedside table staring out the window of the Spirit of Tasmania II, at the water, so far below the window. "There's so much of it" he commented "and what is that bunch of white flappy things near the edge? They look like Flutterby's, although I've never seen Flutterbys on the water before. Could they be thirsty, do you think?" I explained that they were Seagulls and they were around the same size as him. His response was a deep sigh and, "Oh, not snacks then". Ned went off into a quiet corner and was soon sound asleep.
Day 2. Ned is really getting into the holiday spirit looking for any and all possible photo opportunities that he can the main point of interest in. At the Devonport Tourist Information Centre, it was with a group of stuffed toy indigenous animals who kindly rearranged themselves so he could be in the middle of the group. Apart from a large almost life size wombat, he was the tallest anyway and was clearly visible for all to see and admire. The later photo of Ned in the Tourist Centre's garden searching for his breakfast was not one he wanted shared at all. Twitching legs in his mouth and a look of surprise on his face was not the image either he or I thought would be appropriate for public viewing. His later interactions with some of the art features at our next destination, The Makers of Burnie, were definitely ones he is proud of. Ned had taken upon himself the new title of "Art On The Move". This became his new introduction to any and all who had time to meet him. He was very proud to have come up with this idea himself and I must admit he was totally engaging with his new found audience.
Day 3. Wynyard's Fossil Bluff provided entertainment of a different sort for Ned. Whilst he assured me that he was quite comfortable walking on the sand, he had to keep a tight grip on his hat so as not to lose it in the stiff breeze that was coming off the ocean. The outgoing tide had left the usual flotsam and jetsam in a ragged line up and down the beach. Ned found a large sea sponge that had been thrown up onto the grasses and pouncing on the possible generously sized snack, looking at me with excitement at the prospect of adding a different kind of "fibre" to his diet. Leaving him to his "sea-snack", I wandered on to the exposed cliff face that was home to 50 million year old shells and creatures encased in sand. The relentless tide and winds have returned a lot of the specimens to the water, but what is left is amazing and a real privilege to see. Ned meanwhile, having caught up to me was working on getting the remnants of sea sponge and sand from between his teeth. "Not to your refined palate Ned?" I'd asked. "No, it wasn't that," came his reply. " I just wasn't hungry! This I knew couldn't be right. Ned proved to have an endless appetite and he was always hungry and nothing was off the menu, especially if it had more than 4 legs and whilst sea sponges didn't have any legs, it was unattended and obviously free, so why not!
Day 4. Waking to howling winds buffeting the motel room, we viewed the day apprehensively and were pleasantly surprised to find the skies clear above the choppy waters of the bay at Stanley. The massive headland "The Nut" dominates the view to our left, but immediately in front of us, the waters of the Bass Straight hold our gaze. Our wake up coffee consumed over a leisurely breakfast, we head off for the Tarkine Wilderness Centre and the Dismal swamp. After yet another photo op with the lovely wildlife rangers, we traverse down into the broken light of the swamp, where it becomes quiet and peaceful. Ned freaks out at one turn of the walkway when he spies 5 meter high praying mantises perched menacingly on telephone poles, making them look like twigs. Having retrieved Ned from behind some ferns, we continue on down to the bottom of the swamp to be greeted by a group of small wallabies who were not in any hurry, but hopped slowly from one patch of sunshine to the next whilst prompting their joeys to pop their heads out to say hello. Ned stood and talked quietly to them for quite a while and they seemed to respond with bobbing heads and soft mouth noises. We moved on and left them to their morning graze on the grasses under the boardwalk.
Life saving, wonderful nectar of the gods.....Coffee! Luckily one thing not on Ned's menu choices so I know my blissful mug is safe! Pushing on we encountered the rather daunting destination of "The Edge of the Earth" where under relatively clear skies, we ditched our hats and had our moment doing the Titanic moment, leaning out over the railing, being buffeted about by the boisterously strong winds that frequent the area. Ned, due to his small stature, lack of parachute and pilots licence, remained on guard in the vehicle stating that only fools and humans would dare the prevailing winds just to see "a dirty great rock out in the ocean being pummelled by the thunderous surf" and take photos of it! Admittedly after 30 minutes we gave up trying to balance to get a reasonable photo and continued on with our day, much of which included driving over miles of ripple strips, which apparently are a warning system for Tassie Devils to get them off the road at night when they are out and about. The speed zone for areas are severely restricted between the hours of dusk and dawn for the same reason.