The Dreaming

So I've had a couple of dreams this week which have been really, well, odd. Now I'm no stranger to strange dreams - there's the one where I discovered I had a fear of heights AFTER moving into a treetop community, or the one where I was mortally wounded in a Mexican standoff before an oral presentation at uni ( I collapsed and, presumably, bled out while giving that presentation) - but they seem to be coming in thick and fast this week!

In the first one I was hanging out in the Lower House, down in Canberra - but right in the middle of the action. No public gallery for Dream Simon, thank you very much. Then, out of the blue, Julia Gillard returns and is appointed leader. Of everything. We high-fived.

Last night I decided to give myself a haircut. Or, more accurately, Dream Simon decided to give Dream Simon a haircut. He was rubbish. After a lot of mucking around with the kitchen scissors and a pair of pliers (don't ask), out came the clippers... I did keep the beard though.

Finally, a few nights ago, my tablet was playing up and not letting me connect to the Wi-Fi on campus, so I decided to take it in to IT services to see if they could help. And of course, I was served by none other than Sir Ian McKellen. He wasted no time completely disassembling my tablet, and then muttered something about my 'Wi-Fi chip' not being connected. Sir Ian McKellen then rebuilt my tablet and presented it to me, good as new! Then we ate chips.

When I woke up, I was relieved to find that my tablet was working fine, I still had a full head of hair and the leader of our Nation was still that Honourable chap. Well, er, two out of three isn't bad, right?

Malaysia Day Eight: Fly Home

Have you ever watched a fly clean itself? I mean really watched it? They go nuts! Their front legs whip up a storm rubbing the head, the eyes, each other – and it all happens so fast. Then they start with the back legs, that’s when the real show begins. Rub the legs! Rub the body! Rub the wings! Faster, clean faster! Well, alright, maybe you needed to be there; which is more than I can say for my stowaway friend Mr CleanFly here.

I should probably have let someone know that there’s a fly on board, that we risk contaminating our pristine island nation, but the flight attendants seem preoccupied with selling me duty-free scotch.
“We have 18 year old Chivas Regal Blended Scotch available on board,” they remind us over the PA. “And one litre Glenfiddich Single Malt for only 126 Ringgits. Or AUD $42. We also accept US dollars. And other major currencies…” I’ll bet you do, AirAsia.

It was an early start this morning. Our airport transfer was scheduled at a leisurely 7:30 am from the hotel, which would have allowed us ample time to check-in at the airport and the rest. Unfortunately there was a last minute shuffle which saw our transfer time change to 6:45 am instead – which only left us with enough time for one plate from the breakfast buffet. This day was doomed from the beginning.

I decided to give the fly the benefit of the doubt. He’s been cleaning himself this whole time – in fact he’s so clean that he’s squeaking louder than whatever that important looking piece of equipment under the wing is. Just as long as he’s not sitting on my shoulder as I go through customs.