I haven't entirely withdrawn from the human race, I have merely withdrawn from the bullshit that seems to be a major part of it. That part about loyalty to family and friends, doing the right thing about them. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for those values, I did my best to keep them, right up until circumstances threw them in my face.
To all intents and purposes, we were the ideal couple Sonia and I. We were both successful in our chosen fields, had many friends and few enemies. We lived in comfortable upper-middle-class suburbia, drove good but not lavish vehicles, had few debts and credit cards that were used only when necessary and paid off at the end of the month. In this day and age, we were successful. And then. . . .
The first of the circumstances that changed my life forever happened on my way to work, my day job. As I approached an intersection I got an amber light, so I stopped. Unfortunately for me, the guy behind didn't. While I wasn't injured, my car was totalled. That, in itself, should not have been a problem, the car hadn't cost me a fortune, it wasn't new, so what was the problem? I enjoyed driving this car, it handled well, and it was quick when I wanted it to be. In the motoring world, it was one of those cars known as a 'sleeper', something that looked for all the world like a shopping trolley but which was a high-performance car. Many times at traffic light Grand-Prix I left many more fancied cars behind me.
I continued to work by cab and during the day managed to locate a similar car. It was slightly newer and slightly more expensive, even so, I arranged to buy it. Problem solved.
The second circumstance was a month or so later that I found out, another accident, something about a friend who knew someone who had a cousin who was shagging a married woman who just happened to be my lovely wife. Sonia was having an affair and it had been going on for some time. I confronted her with this and she, after first questioning why I should think that she was, admitted the truth. This left me devastated.
I reacted in a calm and collected manner to this devastating news. Like hell I did! I packed some bags and left without telling her where I was going or whether she should expect my return any time soon, and, using some money that I had squirrelled away, decided that I would purchase some land in the coastal hinterland and indulge in my real love, painting.
I sold my new not so new car and bought a Land Rover defender. For not a lot of money, I bought around ten hectares of temperate rain forest with a permanent stream that would provide water and electricity. I built a water turbine by channelling the stream flow through an artificial choke, through an impeller linked by a drive pulley and belt to a generator made from a washing machine motor. I bought a battery pack to store the electricity for when I needed it. I figured that if I went to bed early I would not need a lot of electricity and I could channel the sunlight to work with.
I needed a way to keep my perishables fresh for several days so that I could limit my shopping excursions to once a week. Under the house, under the kitchen, I installed a concrete tank. This had a tank within the tank that could be sealed to keep creepy-crawlies out. Surrounding this inner tank was a coil of 12 mil diameter copper water pipe. This was connected from the rainwater tank, through this coil to the kitchen. The outer tank was filled with sand that was kept moist by wastewater from the sink. This system was able to keep the air inside the inner tank some ten degrees cooler than ambient. I tested it and the inside temperature was between six and eight degrees Celsius, pretty much the same as a refrigerator. I would have to do without ice-cream and frozen stuff.
It took several months to set myself up so that I could start work. This meant clearing enough land for a modest pole house, that I designed and erected, using timber milled at a local sawmill from the trees that I felled. I had to buy corrugated iron for the roof and gutters and downpipes that fed rainwater into a large tank for house use. My first attempts at food production were thwarted by the local wildlife, that found young plants very much to their liking. I built an enclosure to keep them away while at the same time I didn't discourage their visits.
I did draw the line at paralysis ticks that thrived in this environment. While they, if they attached themselves in certain places, could prove fatal, even in other places on the body, could prove very painful and this could lead to complications. When designing my house I set up barriers on the poles to prevent them, and other creepy crawlies from getting into the house, and that included snakes.
Once a week I would drive into the nearest town for those things that I could not provide for myself, like milk and meat, flour and butter. I got some chooks and set them up to provide me with eggs and the occasional meat. These were housed in an intruder proof pen because there were a couple of feral foxes that tried their luck until it sunk in that they were never going to be successful. After that, they joined the wallabies as friends that would come into the cleared space and talk to me.
The wallabies quickly became my mates. Fred, the boss male of the mob was the first to pay me a visit. He stood and watched me sawing wood and banging in nails for some time before hopping off. The next day he was back. I stopped what I was doing, and grabbing some leaves that I'd cut from a lettuce I'd used for a salad the night before, I held it in my hand and moved towards him. When it appeared that he would hop away, I said, "Here ya' go mate." And put on the ground. He looked at me for a while and then hopped over and, after sniffing at it, he ate it.
This routine went on for a few days before he tentatively took the proffered leaves from my hand. Now I'm obliged to spend at least twenty minutes in the morning hand feeding all ten, starting of course with Fred.
These animals were joined by five kookaburras that were gainfully employed as my alarm clock each morning, for which they received a reward of, if available, strips of meat, and if this was not available I'd dig them some worms from the garden. There were many colourful birds, parrots and rosellas along with a variety of finches that dropped by for seed from the feeder and a dip in the birdbath. A pair of wagtails set up shop on the end of the clothesline crossbar and built a nest to raise three chicks. These were the cheekiest of my feathered friends, always around me when I gardened, ready to swoop on disturbed flying insects and telling me, at least it sounded like they were chirping 'thank you very much' before flying off to check out other prey. None of these creatures were any longer afraid of me and were quite vocal in their own way, especially the superb lyrebirds, which, once they had heard my chainsaw, were able to mimic it perfectly.
This was the life that I had built for myself. No TV or radio, I had some CDs for musical accompaniment while I worked, the rest of the time it was just me and my mates. I lived alone but was never lonely. I had many mates now, mates that could be relied upon to be true to me.
On fine days I would sometimes carry my easel out onto the grass and set up to paint. On these occasions, I had an audience to watch the work evolve from the blocked in background to the finished product. The wagtails would often perch on top of the canvas and would some times crap on the unfinished painting. I took this, not as a comment as such, and would either wipe it off or incorporate it into the work. With expressionist painting, you can get away with stuff like that. There were times when I thought of what the buyer of the work would think if he knew that part of his purchase was bird shit.
When I had my first five canvasses finished, I framed them and took them into town. I found a place that would display them for sale. With my first lot, I stayed in town for a couple of days until they were sold. After that, I just took them in and Roger, the store owner would sell them and give me the money the next time I was in town.
This system worked well, and my reputation grew with each batch to the point that, after the fourth batch, Roger began to push me to increase production. I resisted the temptation. "What I'm doing follows sound marketing principles, establish a demand and restrict supply, thereby increasing the price that you could ask". I wasn't greedy, choosing only a modest price increase, enough to cover any increase in the price of paints and canvas.
At times, when inspiration deserted me, I was able to concentrate on my next major project that was to fire-proof my property. It didn't happen often but, when there was a fire in this part of the world, it was spectacular and deadly.
Crown fires are highly dangerous and almost impossible to put out once they take hold. What happens is that the underbrush ignites and creates an updraft that vaporises the oils in the eucalyptus leaves. These ignite sending embers ahead of the fire front. When these embers hit the ground they ignite the dry underbrush thereby creating its own mini-ecosystem of winds and updrafts perpetuating the process.
I set up sprinklers on top of my house that sprayed the roof. The water ran down the gutters and into a large underground tank, almost like a covered swimming pool. A solar-powered electric pump would draw water from this tank to feed the sprinklers. I would keep a watch as the fire approached, making sure to spray any embers that hit the ground. I was able to get several industrial-strength blower fans from a clearance sale. I ripped out the heating systems and replaced these with water jets that injected streams of water into the airstream which turned it into a fine mist. Any embers arriving on the scene had to travel through this mist to reach the ground. None hit the ground alight. This was helped by me keeping the grass short and moist. The wallabies tried but couldn't keep the grass down, so I had to use a ride-on mower that I picked up cheap at a clearance sale. I wasn't looking to buy it, but it was cheap enough not to make too big a dent in my living funds. With this setup, I could relax once the fire front had passed.
My plan was tested the third year I was there and proved itself extremely successful. The grassed area surrounding the house provided a haven for about a dozen wallabies as well as other animals enjoying the cool conditions under the misting spray and my veranda railing was a handy roosting place for dozens of birds. My mates increased after the first fire. I would have to sell more paintings just to cover the cost of additional feed for them.
The second fire brought some problems for me. The fire service had a water bomber flying around dumping water on the fire front. It passed over my place several times and I didn't think anything of it until I went into town. "Was that your place I saw on TV?" Roger asked as I placed the new canvasses on his counter.
"Probably, there were a lot of planes flying overhead."
"Expect a visit from the fireys."
"What makes you say that?"
"I heard a couple of them talking and they mentioned your place was not affected by the flames even though the fire passed right over it, and they said that you had a large collection of animals taking refuge on your grass."
