Heh, our friends Annie and Alan are back with a couple of lovely trout for us. You'd never think an ex-trout farmer would miss trout.
Today was the day of the roo-bar -- I've bartered for some fish a wrecked one, which Bill (mostly Bill) and me spent to today returning to life. I can haz a zombie-roo-bar... thank heavens for Bill. I would still be under the ute, swearing. There was quite a lot of delicate surgery to do with the sledge hammer. We still need to bolt on a lower bar - the zombie-roo-bar was from a larger 4X4 - so starts a little high to protect part of the transmission, but as I said to the Blue Slug (the Ute's is the Blue Slug), she'd better now behave as if she had the grunt of a great big V8 4X$ or I'll take her new look away from her. I'd like to say I was to car-mechanic work what Placido Domingo was to Punk rock... but that would be inaccurate. Flattering. I am more like what a Wolfhound is to banjo playing - completely lost, and likely to try and eat the banjo - or hit the ute with a sledge hammer. Fortunately Bill has a sense of humour and does know what he's doing or I might by now have a small pile of crumpled metal parts.