Feeding the Eels

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellows,

It was off to the small town of Levin today, for a convening of backpackers from Er Indoors's travelling days.

Is "convening" the right word for a collection of backpackers? Or is it a "celebration" of backpackers? A "throng"? A "mess"? A "kon-tiki"?

I have just looked it up. The correct term is a "bong" of backpackers. Now you know.

Joshua picked us up as he had offered to ferry us out there. He was actually good fun and made us laugh on the way down.

When we arrived, I met LouLou and Tiger. He was a very jolly Kiwi fellow who gave me a big hug and then gave me THINGS TO EFFING DO. 

Never trust a hugger.

We were gathering on a piece of land owned by L&T which has nothing on it but a caravan. They have just always wanted to own a bit of land, and it is startlingly pretty out there (see extras). They had been working hard to make it presentable for all of us, "I've been pulling doughnuts on the lawnmower," explained LouLou. There was a strong smell of newly-mown grass in the air, and fantails flew crazy patterns all around us, snatching bugs from the air.

After that, some more Kiwis and Aussies arrived, "You're just in time for the EEL FEEDNG," said LouLou.

Not a sentence I was expecting. Ever. In my actual life. But I was there to go with the flow.

It turns out there are a dozen tame eels who live in the creek on their property. LouLou & Tiger go down there every day at 2pm, tap on a rock and the slithery fellows all rock up at once and beg for cat food. "They'l give your toes a bit of a suck if you wade in there," explained Tiger. 

I took him at his word. There's no need to seek proof for everything. 

The eels waved their little heads around and made gummy, old-person-eating-trifle noises. I wouldn't say they were CUTE, exactly. But they did seem pretty clever. At one point, a chicken drumstick was thrown and the biggest eel made off with it and stuffed it under the bank. 

"I've seen him do that with a dead rat once," said Tiger proudly.

"VOM!" said Libby from Auckland, who did not find this as adorable as the rest of us.

After a bit of craic on the property, and a bit of setting up of tents and marquees for the next day, we drove into town for dinner in two cars. LouLou got a text from Macca in the other car. 

theres a cobb and co in town wot do u think?

LouLou read that out loud and there was a CHEER from all around me.

So. Here's the thing. Cobb & Co used to be THE family restaurant back in the 80's when they served chicken in a basket, fish & chips, prawn cocktail and The Traffic Light Drink. All the Kiwis squashed around me in the car LOVED this place when they were growing up.

"Traffic Light Drink! Traffic Light Drink!" said Tiger. "I wonder if they do it with vodka, now that we're in our 40's?"

I did my best to get into the spirit, by ordering the "Cobb Loaf" (a loaf of bread in the shape of a chef's hat) and the "Roast of the Day". "But don't tell me what it is," I told the waitress. "I want it to be like 'meat roulette'."

Because they are backpackers, there were plenty of stories. LouLou told us about That Time When She Became A Drug Mule. She told us she was just packing up to leave London and fly to Aussie when she came across an E which had not been taken on a previous night.

"Hmmm... look at that," she thought. "And if I unscrew the handle on my hairbrush and slip it in... it fits perfectly! We could have this when I get into Sydney!"

Look. Don't. Just don't. I am guessing she MAY have still been a little under the influence when making this decision and I'm not sure that Thinking Things Through was happening at the time. As for me, I've seen "Midnight Express" too many times to even consider having anything shoved up my brush handle.

So anyway. She connected via Kuala Lumpur and it was there she heard a voice over the tannoy. "WE WOULD REMIND TRAVELLERS THAT THE PENALTY FOR DRUG TRAFFICKING IS DEATH".

She freaked out a little at that point, but got onto her connecting flight with no issues. She flew into Sydney with a deepening sense of relief. 

"But THEN," she explained. "One of those EFFING dogs, one of those C**TY little dogs SAT on my suitcase. Sat right on it, looking all smug. Little b*stard." 

She was sent to the "Angry-Looking Men's Queue" and awaited her fate as she saw the suitcases of every traveller ahead of her being unpacked and the contents being deconstructed methodically. "But just then a Nice Lady Queue opened up and I was like 'Hiiiiiii!!'" said LL. So she slipped through customs unscathed. Just.

Apparently she split the E four ways when she got to Sydney, sharing it with Libby and two others. "Nothing. It was like taking an effing aspirin," said LouLou. "So that was the end of my career as a drug-smuggler. Literally, I only ever smuggled the one drug."

Tiger & LouLou turned out to be a brilliant laugh. We got talking about the differences Er Indoors and I have noted since moving here. I pointed out that Kiwi advertising is not subtle. It's true. Adverts here go like this:

ADVERT: Come to our store! Things are really CHEAP! And GOOD! 

Whereas in the UK, adverts are very arty and tangential things, la la la... lady walking along a beach... waves lapping on the shore... she looks in quiet contemplation at the sunset.... la la la... incontinence pads...

Tiger agreed. "Ah yeah, here it'd be like, BUY INCONTINENCE PADS OR YOU'LL PISS YERSELF".

Because we are us, we also got to talking about poo. And I relayed the tale of The Muffin Man, and the next thing you know we came up with a new euphemism, "Feeding The Eels" which made Libby vom again. "Look at that little brown fulla," said Tiger, playing it out to its logical conclusion. "He's not really swimming so much as floating. I think he might be dead."

So hey. Another intellectual night out with Er Indoors and me. I don't know how we manage it, but we always locate that lowest common denominator right off the bat and escort the group there with a flourish.

PARSONES: No really, I need to stop talking about poo when people are eating.
DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER: Except if it's funny and they are eating sausages.
PARSONES: Well that just goes without saying.

S.