Welly-boot castaway

It's been a month, tomorrow, since we applied for citizenship. Barbs has her interview notification... I still haven't heard. I guess we won't be going together which is a disappointment, besides leaving me to face the dangers of Lonnie on my own. It's these big cities, y'know, and they insist on you being disarmed first, without a pocket-knife. What am I going to do if I need cut some bailing twine, or put an injured wallaby out of its misery? Anyway, I'll cope with it when I must, just glad to be out here where things are still civilized. It was interesting to see some article about how to survive if your plane crashes on the atoll of a desert island. The 'expert' said your first choice item should be welly boots (presumably from one of these trick lists -pick the most important.) To protect your feet from the coral and to act as water-buckets. Obviously feller never tried swimming to the shore in them. Of course I always have my welly boots in my hand-luggage although I don't have something else on my tootsies. I just love these experts. A knife might be really useful but that's the one thing you won't have.

The temperatures have been skyrocketing, as has the humidity, to extent I have hope for the eggplant and the sugar is going like it did in Durban - slightly gooey. I dug up 20kg of spuds, and reckon I lost that in sweat today. It's horrible weather to try and write, fortunately it doesn't last very long.

Anyway baby potato salad (eggs, spring onions, mayo and really lovely little spuds), with spicy wallaby rissoles, and a tangy coconut, chili, gangal, and tamarind sauce. With tall glasses of cold pastis to replace some of that fluid.