Corona Induced Spring Clean ...

Today I chose to extend my otherwise rushed lunch break to sit on our verandah and soak in the welcoming August sun. It was a picture perfect day, the first for a long while.

As I turned to face the inviting rays, I closed my eyes and realised how much I missed the comforting warmth. It felt sublime, and in an instant melted my worrying thoughts into a trance-like stillness. I could have stayed put for hours immersed in what seemed like impenetrable peace.

I've been quietly struggling of late, attempting in disbelief to decipher what on earth is happening to our precious world. It feels so broken, so sombre and surreal. Covid-19 is all-consuming in every direction I turn and I'm constantly attuned to the undeniable heaviness spread across the global board.

The impact corona fear saturates our lives with is heartbreaking, nevertheless I realise how fortunate we continue to be in our beautiful corner of the world. As long as we each keep complying with mandatory restrictions and measures, we will hopefully be spared of clustering or hot-spotting our endearing country paradise.

While I've mindfully concentrated on making the best of my restricted lifestyle, some days I have failed miserably. The abnormality of the situation at times has worn thin and occasionally my thoughts ventured around people, places, events, even climates I miss terribly.

I'm annoyed when I let this happen. Not only does this reflection and longing make me unhappily drag my behind, but I start yearning for a life put on hold. These particular thoughts aren't the slightest bit helpful or supportive of my mental health and have the power to pull me down, immobilising me in a flash.

My life isn't on hold at all and nor would I ever want it to be. Time passes way too quickly regardless of circumstances, and god knows, I'm no spring chicken anymore! I just need to think creatively outside of the square.

Therefore, I decided I do not wish to look back on 2020 and predominantly recall it as the year of an unprecedented, wretched virus. I will remember this significant start to the new decade as the time frame I finally bit the bullet and created significant, long overdue changes to my lifestyle. More so, letting go of undesirable habits and replacing them with health-conscious routines, which I am now successfully battling. It hurts - badly - but the rewards will taste all the more delicious.

Yes, 2020 will be remembered as the year I generated profound, wholistic alterations to my life. I have let go of detrimental patterns, even people to some extent. I am in the process of decluttering and spring cleaning myself and my immediate environment. Perfect, therapeutic activities during isolation.

I am teaching myself a foreign language and I'm allowing more time for my two great loves of reading and writing - without paying attention to the niggling whisper of, "Shouldn't you be working? There is so much to do!"

However, as much as these changes are positive with promised, constructive results, they don't feel meaningful enough to satisfy my contentment hunger. It's too much of 'all about me'.

Once I recognised this missing link, I researched my options of how I could reach out to others less fortunate than I struggling during this difficult corona induced period. I didn't have to look very far! Supporting and offering altruistic assistance gives me joy among the doom and gloom and presents a valid purpose. Now knowing I am making a difference to others, allows me to breathe freely while fully enjoying precious 'me time'.

Making the most of these corona conditions is important to me. I don't wish to waste a single moment and I will not let these unpleasant circumstances overpower me! I will use this time wisely, while quietly hoping for and looking forward to better times sooner rather than later.

This covid-19 pandemic is temporary and since February I've continually assured myself each morning upon waking, "We're another day closer to a new norm." Yet this statement too is wearing thin, as we're just not close enough for my liking. Surely we, the habitants of this globe, have all learnt our lessons by now?! Isn't it time to restart our world minus the devastating virus intruder? I wish it were so.

In the meantime, join me in finding your creative and productive outlets. Discover and act on positivity to camouflage this disruptive year. I honestly thought 2020 was going to be brilliant, as it had such a wonderful ring to it. Never in my wildest dreams did I see covid-19 coming ... but we are stronger. Please remember that always.

Loving Unconditionally ...

Animals and birds seem to be the predominant theme for me this week. If I'm not attempting to rescue a seagull with fishing wire wrapped around it's leg, I'm trying to hustle koalas and echidnas to safety off the middle of main country roads. I even saved a little frog, which found its way indoors! Then there was the native bird, which made a bee-line for my car and sat on my right side mirror for a good five seconds, inspecting it for insects. I hadn't even turned the engine off although I was stationary.

I was parked at the Tarwin Lower jetty to spoil a friend's beautiful horse (with her permission), which is presently homed in a surrounding paddock. I save our left over apples and carrots, a touch past their use by date, for this lovely creature, who eagerly appreciates the extra treats. He sees me coming a mile away and knows exactly what's going on. I miss having a horse in my care, but this is the closest I'll ever have to owning another.

Quite a few years ago, through cancer, I lost a beautiful, chestnut, quarter horse, who was a stunning, strong, muscular twenty-two year old retiree with the most loving, placid nature I had ever encountered. It was such a pleasure to nurture and care for him, and I made sure his retirement was as close to 'horse paradise' as I could offer. He is now buried on our farm beside other precious and missed farm pets.

Being completely heartbroken at the time, a few weeks later my husband surprised me with a rescue horse! I came home from work, on our wedding anniversary, to find an extremely quiet, arthritic, thirty-two year old, quarter horse on death's door. It was a miracle he had survived the one hour float trip to our farm. His aged face wore big, brown, sad eyes, his ribs were protruding terribly and he seemed to lack the energy to even hold up his head. He literally brought me tears.

Sky had worked extremely hard in the cutting arena throughout his life and had been in retirement for many years. He was continuously kept in good condition, residing on beautiful cattle farms, until the drought one summer took its toll and grass became scarce. Sky then proceeded to drop weight reaching a crisis point.

So, there he was, in my care. He wasn't Baldy (who could never be replaced), but this lovely, poor animal needed my help. Immediately I sprung into action! I arranged a vet to come and give him a good check over and I had a dentist assess and file his teeth. Seems there weren't too many chewing teeth left, however senior horse food would give Sky the nourishment he required. I also wormed him and had the farrier visit. I religiously fed Sky three times a day with all the goodness he needed, plus added supplements in an attempt to relieve his arthritic joint discomfort, and I gave him as much affection and attention as I possibly could.

Three months on, Sky already looked magnificent and had gained weight daily. His coat changed to a darker brown color and looked and felt healthy, his hooves had improved immensely and he even rolled regularly, which I was told he would no longer be capable of, due to his age. His tail had grown, after having been continuously nibbled by cattle, and he seemed comfortable and warm wearing his snug, water-proof, winter coat.

However, although I spent as much time as I could with Sky, talking to him, stroking him and offering him trust and friendship, the feeling wasn't mutual. The healthier he became, the less he showed interest in building a relationship with me. The most attention I received was when, through his elderly vision, he spotted me approaching with his feed. Once his feed bucket was on the ground before him, he let me know, in no uncertain terms, I could now leave!

I won't lie. I felt a little upset and disappointed, especially after the special bond I experienced with Baldy. You'd think this animal would have appreciated my effort of bringing him back to life, so to speak. But then I thought, "Hang on, he owes me nothing. Aren't I nursing and caring for him unconditionally? Sky is old and wise and if he doesn't feel like being affectionate, that's his prerogative. Yes, he's cantankerous and stubborn, but so be it. If that's the way he is, then that's the way he is. I need to accept that."

I continued to try and win Sky over in the hope he would one day surprise and meet me half way. In actual fact, by witnessing his daily transformation, I was greatly rewarded for my effort. The most important thing was Sky felt happy, healthy and enjoyed his retirement. He'd certainly done tremendously well to reach his thirty-two years of age, especially with what he had endured, and I couldn't help but have the greatest respect for him.

Then ... in September of 2017 when Sky had turned thirty-four, the unthinkable happened. I watched him horrifically die through the bite of a venomous snake. I knelt in shock and horror powerlessly beside him. I couldn't even comfort or calm him down during his slow, torturous death, as the poison flowed through his adrenaline glands. I immediately called the vet when the snake struck, praying he could be saved, but help arrived five minutes after Sky took his last breath. I was told his death was inevitable.

I will never forget that devastating day and I'm still upset, even angry, Sky departed this world in such a horrendous way after being a fighter all his life. Couldn't he have just closed his eyes and fallen asleep forever more during a nanna nap?

I will never understand.

No more horses for me. I couldn't bear to go through a gut wrenching experience like that again. I am now more than happy to spoil other ponies in my travels, if allowed.

Food For Thought ...

I admit, although I attempt to remain positive, I'm beginning to feel a little emotionally fried. Surely I am not alone as I voice this. These present, pickled life circumstances are dishing out unpleasant, brewing emotions from deep within my core; continuously, quietly churning over. If I don't take action, I feel I may reach boiling point, pending an undesirable melt down.

My measured, anticipated goals are now toast! My plate was excitedly overflowing with dreams I planned to fulfil in the near future, now abruptly squashed. This unforeseen time is a recipe for disaster in its destructive, rippling effect.

The simmering, somber, global energy weighs heavily on universal shoulders and is difficult to digest. Not knowing the conclusion around this serious world crisis stirs up various, debilitating feelings for us all.

However, we must not allow this unpredictability to beat us. By nurturing and protecting ourselves, we simultaneously and respectfully shield others. Furthermore, we can use this time to delve deeply inward and explore our uplifting, god-given gifts and strengths to feed our hungry appetites, now missing precious chunks of normality. These gifts allow us to rise above the constant, singeing heat.

We can infuse gentleness and acceptance into our lives as we skim through our days, deciphering unrealistic pressures whisked up in our seasoned imaginations. Perhaps we could replace these with innovative, spicy undertakings to mix up our daily isolating methods.

We can regularly serve up rainbows of vegetables to treat our households with natural vitamin tablets. We can sweat while creatively exercising in and around our homes, whipping ourselves into better shape. Our immune systems will surely thank us.

We can baste in positivity, between the doom and gloom, found every which way we look if we are open to it, and add tasty tidbits of inspiring, supportive information from assorted, avenues. We can wrap ourselves around interesting hobbies we've always wanted to pursue, waiting in the background for the right time. Isn't the right time now?

My yearning for travel has eased somewhat as I knead my brain, saturating my learning cells with a foreign language. When travel recommences, I hope to be prepared, ready to be mildly grilled by my Indonesian friends, whom I miss terribly.

Let's peel away such raw layers as fear, impatience and loneliness, even those difficult to swallow, and render all that doesn't serve us emotionally. We are not cooked yet, not even close. This present, normal grind will not reduce us to defeat. Our zest for life will overcome this unforeseeable phase.

Let's quench our longing thirst for the norm with daily dollops of goodness and absorb the delicious aromas of gratitude, for we have so much to be thankful for.

Let us strive to be safe with blended empathy for ourselves and others and saute the unfavourable feelings with a grain of salt, allowing them to steam into oblivion.

We can inventively replace or mould the parts of our deferred life into a colorful banquet, while mindfully nourishing the remaining, unchanged aspects even more.

Let us intentionally transform adversity into opportunity ...

Unitedly We Stand ...

It's been over five months since covid-19 reared it's ugly, erratic head in Australia. It was on my birthday we were informed of the precedented, vicious, virus swells rolling in across our shores.

A surreal pandemic nightmare.

Truth be known, a pandemic was so far removed from my mind, I'd never even heard of the word and had to look it up as it splashed over every media outlet!

At first the details of this rampant infection were difficult to comprehend until there was word of suddenly thousands of folk from all walks of life dropping to their knees in pain. That's when it hit home!

The pandemic suddenly transformed from a nightmare to a very real, shocking, tangible and frightening reality felt all over the world.

Hospitals inundated to full capacities attempting to save and heal their own, while over half a million patients worldwide have sadly succumbed to horrific, excruciating fatalities thus far. The ripple effect is unimaginable.

The world was and still is in turmoil, now in the midst of a second, gutwrenching flood presently prominent in our own Victorian state.

I often sit on my verandah, within my farm bubble, listening to the beautiful, poetic sounds of nature. If I wasn't informed of the severity of our state's unrest, I honestly wouldn't know any different.

The school bus still ventures down our long gravel road at precisely 4.15pm each week day, the digger sounding in the distance continues its daily work on our neighbouring farm and the grader is patching up our road's pot holes as I write.

A very different scenario to the families cooped up in Melbourne highrise apartments anxiously fretting.

We are so lucky in South Gippsland. We're in a sparsely populated area and relatively safe compared to densely inhabited city suburbs.

If we unitedly continue to look after ourselves and eachother by adhering to the non travel rules, the social distancing measures and enhanced hygiene practices, we will be playing our part to prevent the damaging virus from spreading into our precious community.

The advice remains that physical distancing, regular hand washing and refraining from touching your face is the best defence against covid-19.

Let's individually and collectively stop this unwelcome, devastating virus in it's tracks. There is no reason we can't, and please remember to continue to be kind.

Thinking Out Aloud ...

I pulled the official letter from our post office box early one morning a few weeks ago. It was solely addressed to me.

I was a little shocked upon opening and reading the concerning news, yet subconsciously I'd been awaiting the inevitable day my body would begin to protest.

It can't continue to work its magic forever!

I drove sombrely home contemplating and digesting the news that could possibly be the start of a journey I'd ironically already walked with my beautiful sister in law, Jude.

Each day something jumps out and surprises me from left field, and this particular day, unfortunately, happened to be all about me.

I couldn't bring myself to share the contents of my letter for a week, not even with my husband. I needed to get my own head around the direct message first.

I've been extremely lucky throughout my fifty-four years of life. I've never experienced a broken bone or major illness. All previous, mandatory health tests I've undertaken, I've passed with flying colors. The only physical intrusions I've ever encountered were annual needle pricks in my arm to check my blood was behaving as it should.

Piece of piss!

This was my attitude upon taking the biennial fecal occult blood test not long ago. Everything was fine as far as I was concerned. I hadn't experienced any issues relating to my digestive tract and I honestly didn't think twice about the results, expecting them to be negative as per usual.

However, this time they returned positive ...

I followed up with my doctor almost immediately, who referred me on to have a colonoscopy as soon as possible. I'm now anticipating the dreaded day in around three weeks.

The waiting game is not much fun and my thoughts, although realistic, are bouncing around from one end of my brain to the other, conjuring up all sorts of very real, ugly scenarios.

I realise there are many possible reasons as to why microscopic blood was found in my stool. I guess, I'm wrapping my head around the worst case scenario, which could prove to be a colon cancer diagnosis.

Hey, if I expect the worst, I might be pleasantly surprised and relieved!

So how do I feel about the C word? I fucking hate it, that's how!

My father was diagnosed with small cell cancer many years ago and struggled through numerous complications for eight torturous months, until we laid him to rest.

Many friends have also trudged their way through this despicable disease, but none more so than my sister in law, who fought for six years with every ounce of strength and determination she could muster, until she took her final breath late last November.

I accompanied Jude through the many, tiresome chemo sessions over the years. I nursed her when her body failed and as I held her hand, watched her fade away right before my eyes. It was gut wrenching and never had I felt so utterly powerless.

As Jude slipped away, I felt quiet relief for her while facing my own heartbreak and loss. She didn't deserve any of it and departed this world much too soon, leaving behind a husband and two, young, adult sons, one of whom is autistic.

Jude was only fifty- three years old. She and I were the same age.

Jude lead an extremely clean lifestyle. She was into all sorts of healthy food alternatives and natural therapies, committed to gifting herself wholistic health and well-being to be an ongoing pillar of strength to her family.

Still she suffered cancer.

I knew of many seemingly vibrant, fit, healthy folk, who succumbed to disease, shocking their loved ones. Some passed suddenly without a hint of warning while jogging or running a marathon. One simply took a shower. Or what about babies and children who suffer through illnesses and consequently die. Where's the logic in that?!

Others like me, who could do a whole lot better addressing their health, soldier on, relishing in all life has to offer.

For these reasons I truly believe, regardless of how we endeavour to live our lives, when our time here in earth school is up, we are called home.

With this in mind, I decided long ago to enjoy life to the best of my ability, even the detrimental habits I pursue, preferring quality over quantity. Right or wrong, this is my attitude and so far it's served me well. Definitely on an emotional level and up until now, my physicality too has withstood the constant abuse, rising and attending the party time and time again.

However, I have always quietly anticipated the day my physical self claims defeat, unable to repeatedly heal.

I've disrespected my body in many ways, commencing as a young, primary school aged child. The roller coaster of binge eating and starving myself for two decades surely placed tremendous strain on my entire being, especially my faithful heart.

I would have been the perfect bulimia candidate, but failed miserably trying to uphold a vomiting habit. It just didn't sit well with me sticking my finger down my throat - thankfully! Throw into the equation other addictive habits for nearly forty years and I'd say I'm a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

I'm nauseous seeing these words written in black and white. Oh how they bring it home! How dare I treat myself this way. Don't I hold any regard for myself?!

Mind you, I've always been extremely active, participating in many sporting activities over the years. Farm life too changed my lifestyle dramatically for the better. I learned to eat regularly and to finally satisfy my hunger, which is something I hadn't deciphered in years.

Funny how no one ever picked up on my problematic relationship with food. Neither family members, nor flatmates or even partners noticed. I must have hidden it well.

I once attempted to disclose my guarded secret to a dear friend. The words excruciatingly scraped over my tongue like sand paper. The overwhelming shame I felt was indescribable, but I managed to bare my all. The reaction I received was laughter! My friend thought I was joking and couldn't for the life of her take me seriously, immediately changing the subject.

I tried ...

Back to the C word. We all know cancer doesn't discriminate. There's no rhyme or reason as to why or whom it clings onto for dear life like barnacles to a boat hull. Some people survive, some remain in remission for a long while, some pass after short periods. Even animals succumb to this shitful disease.

I remember when my beautiful horse, Baldy, was diagnosed with cancer around his eye area. The vet surgically removed his inner eyelid believing the tumor had successfully vanished... and it seemed it had until Baldy's eye started newly weeping a year later.

I called the vet again and gently dabbed Baldy's inflamed, sore eye. Suddenly a drop of the cancerous fluid flicked into my own eye. I wondered then if this would somehow have a detrimental impact on my body.

This also reminds me of the many times I accompanied Jude to Peter MacCallum hospital for chemo sessions. I tend to drink a lot of water and regularly visited the chemo ward toilets, as typically chemo administration lasted for hours. One fine day a nurse on shift insisted I not use the patient toilets, as they're toxic.

Bit late for that!

Again I wondered if this would somehow affect me.

I've always believed, and continue to do so, when we 'go home', we are reunited with loved ones who passed before us. This thought comforts, and even excites me a touch. I've lost so many adoring friends, family and pets I still endlessly miss.

I certainly don't carry a death wish, but I'm at peace with the concept of passing over, especially falling into the embraces of souls I long to meet again, starting with Glen, who I'm sure will be my first contact behind the veil. I abruptly lost him twenty years ago and to this day our unique, loving connection feels stronger than it's ever been.

... and honestly, I'm bloody sick of the worry I carry for significant others here on earth. I realise it's self inflicted, as I have the power to control my own thoughts, but I just can't shake them off! All I desire is a simple, peaceful and content life. That's all I long for. So I've always imagined, when my time is up, I will passively react with acceptance. No qualms about it.

However, now that I possibly may be on death row (just saying), I've realised something that's never occurred to me!

What about all the people and animals here on earth I presently love and will leave behind? I will feel the same grief leaving them!

Seems I can't win ... and more to wrestle with inside my head.

At the end of the day, I need to wait for my colonoscopy results.

If I really do have fucking cancer, I'm not keen on going down the chemo road, having witnessed first hand the wholistically devastating, disempowering process. I'd prefer to have someone else access my lot. Someone who will appreciate their lengthened life. Someone with young children.

If it turns out I am cancer free, will I take it as a warning and change my ways? Surely yes!

I'd need my head read if I didn't, however, I dare say the damage I've already accomplished is irreversible. How could it not be after all these years?

My gut feeling isn't leaning towards cancer, but something is obviously not right. I guess only time will tell.

Waiting, waiting, impatiently waiting ...

Incredible, Unique Country Etiquette ...

Recently my family uprooted our elderly mother from a busy, peninsula town to Foster, so we can all be near to enjoy quality time and take care of, well, whatever arises.

I visited mum the other morning and was pleasantly reminded of what I obviously take for granted these days, having lived the country life for fifteen years.

I arrived to find mum's rubbish bin had already been wheeled down her driveway and placed in its usual spot beside her garage after the garbage truck had earlier emptied it. The lovely lady next door had considerately taken care of this chore.

I noticed mum's nature strip had been mowed too. Apparently one of the neighbors across the road had graciously offered to tend to this job the previous day.

A lump of soil in mum's 'work in progress' front garden had also been levelled out.

Mum said, "Yes, a polite young tradesman working on the building site next door yesterday offered to flatten the pile for me. He said it would only take him five minutes with his superior machinery."

How nice of him!

Mum and I then decided to take advantage of the beautiful, morning sunshine and rugged ourselves up ready to thaw out and loosen our bones during a short walk.

Upon opening the front door to leave, we were startled by a dozen eggs nestled in an ice-cream container on the door mat, graciously planted by another neighbor. Wow!

This just doesn't stop!

After our walk, we drove into town to buy our regular coffees. Mum, still mindful of her health vulnerabilities towards covid-19, waited in the car while I strolled inside the coffee shop to order.

I explained mother was waiting outside after the gorgeous cafe owner, who we've grown extremely fond of, enquired about her. With that, she brewed our cuppas and carried mum's latte to the car to greet her good morning.

Such a lovely gesture!

There are many more examples and mother is overwhelmed with Foster's hospitality, not being accustomed yet to a country life style.

It's true, country and city are worlds apart. Sure, both have their advantages and disadvantages like everything in life, but I'll take rural living any day - and I grew up in Melbourne!

I remember clearly the day I was gobsmacked, realising I really did now live in country Victoria among the most accommodating folk I'd ever met.

When my husband and I were suddenly faced with the opportunity of a country/sea change all those years ago, the move happened like a whirlwind.

One minute we were living our typical, busy, city lives, the next I was cleaning our new, simple, yet stunning, rental property in preparation to live in beautiful Venus Bay until we built our house on the farm.

We moved our entire life in the first week of December and I remember it felt completely surreal. Besides flyby greetings, we hadn't befriended any locals as yet and Christmas was fast approaching. I excitedly informed our family Christmas Day will be celebrated in our delightful new part of the world.

I planned a cold, festive banquet of numerous, delicious salads and cold meats and began preparing my three roasts during the morning of Christmas Eve.

One roast had cooked beautifully teasing my taste buds, one was half baked in the oven, while the last was ready and waiting its turn. Then, to my horror, I realised my oven had suddenly died!

"Oh nooo," I shrieked, "Not now!"

I quickly searched for the real estate agent's number we rented the house through and immediately rang explaining my dilemma.

I was told the local electrician was on his way to Melbourne for Christmas celebrations and wouldn't be returning for a couple of days. I would need to wait.

"Wait! How can I wait? I have my family coming for Christmas tomorrow!" I frantically answered.

Rob, the agent, claimed he would see what he could do and to leave it with him.

After a short while, which seemed like an eternity, Rob called back and apologetically insisted there are no electricians to be found. All tradesmen had finished up for the Christmas holidays. However, if I would like to bring my roasts to the shop, he will happily take them home to finish roasting them in his own oven.

"Oh my goodness, are, are you serious?" I stuttered in shock.

"Of course," Rob said. "Bring them down."

You could have blown me over with a feather!

For many years I rented in various parts of Melbourne, but never in my wildest dreams could I imagine city real estate agents (or property managers), offering to assist their tenants with such a personal predicament, going above and beyond to help.

I mean, seriously, it would have taken a few weeks to have the defective oven seen to in town, Christmas time or not!

I was completely floored and knew at that moment life was going to dramatically change putting our roots down in South Gippsland.

I have never forgotten the generosity of both Rob and his wife, Lorraine, who then owned the real estate agency. I am forever grateful for their kindness, especially to a stranger.

However, my story doesn't end there!

After I was certain Rob was seriously going to finish my meat off in his oven, I rounded up my roasting trays and went to grab my car keys, which weren't in their typical place.

"Great!" I mumbled. "Where the hell have they gone now?!"

I didn't want to needlessly hold Rob up any longer, as I was already wasting his precious time. I quickly scanned the house without any luck and suddenly my husband sprung to mind.

Sure enough, after ringing him to check, hubby had driven off that morning with my car keys in his pocket! Brilliant! Funny thing was, he'd never done that before.

So again I rang Rob to explain, as much as I wanted to, I was unable to transport my roasts to his shop, but thanked him profusely for his generous offer that continued to blow me away.

"No worries," he answered, "I'll be there in ten minutes to pick them up."

I was speechless! For the life of me I could not believe it!

Rob arrived as he said he would and cooked my roasts beautifully - probably better than I would have managed! I picked them up late in the afternoon when my husband finally arrived home with my car keys.

Our first family Christmas Day function in our new surroundings turned out to be a successful and enjoyable event with plenty of tasty food.

Yes indeed, we had landed smack bang in glorious country life, which has only continued to blossom over the years.

We've had the pleasure of meeting endless, endearing locals throughout South Gippsland, many who have become good friends and, at the drop of a hat, we all help each other out. No one bats an eyelid.

This is what I call incredible, unique country etiquette and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Stunning Venus Bay, Victoria, Australia