Moree

Well, that was an experience. 

Got to JingleLad safely and crashed up in Moree for a few days. What a place that is, completely the middle of nowhere. It was more like the wild west than anything else, seeing mad cowboy lads going down the street on horses is a common occurrence. Despite the fact it's easy to get work there, its just not worth it. Makes the raptap look civilised. 

So after a braveheart style speech about how class Brisbane would be and how we'll get work there no bother, I've convinced JingleLad to risk it with me on our meagre funds and hit the city. It's completely all or nothing, because if we run out of cash (a good possibility) then its a job on a farm in the blistering heat surrounded by flies. Yippee. 
On the funny side, it could be interesting watching JingleLad acclimatise to city life again. He's been out in the sticks for about a year now, and may get a small fright when he sees a building taller than 12 foot high and not made from wood. Be a good change for us both though to see nice girls again as well. This will be slightly different from Moree where the local 'beauties' look like Lord of the Rings extras with less teeth.

We did however manage a few little adventures up in Moree. We had a few nights on the finest Australian wine (a bag of goon) and then we'd hit the pub. One night, things got completely out of control and the local pub stayed open a FULL 5 MINUTES beyond the customary closing time of 12pm! I tell you, it was wild. 
There may have even been a particularly heated game of pool on between the locals if memory serves. Most likely, the wager was someone's prize mule, hence the serious nature of the contest.

But in all seriousness, tradition is tradition so we went hell-for-leather on the Saturday night. We were in the pub scooping away with the regulars, the atmosphere a pleasant one. Being the charming twosome that JingleLad and myself are, we afterwards invited to a house party. The locals were quite keen to hear more tales from our youth: fighting giant wolves in the snow, hunting haggis, and how we build our igloos. At times like that, keeping a straight face can be difficult.
So we accompanied the orcs back to their den for aforementioned 'party'. JingleLad and I decided to split our forces and wished each other the best. Things were going well. I went upstairs and chatted away, and watched some girl completely deck it and sprain her ankle. She could  hardly walk (easy meat). After having a wee look, I saw bruising coming through along the bottom of her foot, so suggested to the locals it might be ligament or tendon damage. I was immediately declared a witchdoctor and made a hasty exit.
Downstairs I went and encountered JingleLad challenging what was possibly the male Orcs to various drinking competitions. He seemed to be doing well. He was managing to combine both acts of jabbing his finger in their faces, and downing his bag of goon. Needless to say, this wasn't received too well and there were a few scowls. This situation progressed nicely until one of the chaps decided enough was enough and skudded JingleLad in the face. Down he went. Being the good pal I am, I stepped in and also got a whack for my efforts.

Now at this point, you may be thinking things were not going well for us. I feel inclined to agree. However it could have been alot worse. Somehow, JingleLad's Canadian friend spotted all this and ushered us away in his car before we were properly in trouble. Also turns out the gentlemen we were boxing is the local drug dealer, so happy days all round. We gained a few bumps and they gained their first sight of a motor vehicle, so a fair trade really.

So away we go to Brisbane to try our luck in one of Australia's biggest cities.  If we get jobs quickly, we're sorted and won't have to go back to the bush. We have made a slight embellishment to JingleLads CV in the hope of finding work. It states only does he have a degree, but he was also employed for a year at the luxurious resort, The Rob Roy Spa and Retreat. Anyone who has been to The Roy Rob may understand 'spa' is not an entirely honest description.
In other news, it was a bit of a shame my last night in Moree was blighted by the fact I had to get down on one knee and offer JingleLad my beer. And he's got a picture of it.
He's a cheating prick at cards.

Good luck to all my mo-bro's. Next stop, Brisbane...