My brother-in-law “Carrot”, the world’s nicest bloke a few years ago emigrated here with my sister from Nottingham. Being a Pommy, he was nervous around things that slither and crawl, which is unfortunate when you are staying in leafy, insecty, spidery Hornswood (being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby to Chatswood).

Let me recount Carrot’s first day in Australia.

I’d made a poem for him, so he’d know what’s really dangerous in Oz and what isn’t:

Australia has a myriad of spiders,

that can bite and really hurt.

The only ones to be shit-scared of Carrot,

are the black ones, living in the dirt.

 

Oz is full of many snakes,

most won’t try to bring you down.

The only ones who’ll fuck you Carrot,

are the big ones, coloured brown.

So, my lovely wife and I went in two cars to the airport because they had heaps of luggage. Carrot and I were packing the bags in the back of mine, in the car park.

I politely opened the passenger’s door, he went to get in and then recoiled in absolute horror.

Carrot – “OH GOD!! WHAT THE FOCK’S THAT?”

Sitting on the passenger seat, was the most enormous Huntsman I’ve ever seen. Even by Sydney big-ass-spider standards, it was huge. It looked like a Blue Swimmer crab and seemed to be rising up and down as it breathed.

Now I’d seen this Huntsman a few days ago, as he ran across the outside of my windscreen and nearly gave me a heart attack. But I’d forgotten about him.

Me – “LOOK OUT!” I moved him aside. I was pretty keen to get rid of this unwanted arachnid.

As I lifted my size ten Blundstone boot the Huntsman ran under the seat, but luckily he popped out on the floor of the back. I landed flush on top of the monster and squashed him flat! I don’t like spiders and don’t “rehome” them, especially in my vehicle.

I looked smilingly to Carrot. His mouth was ajar, face was bloodless and being a Pommy he already had a predominantly whitish hue.

Carrot – “WHAT WAS THAT?”

Me – “Just a Huntsman. Big, but harmless.”

Carrot – “Harmless? Then why’s it called A FOCKING HUNTS-MAN? What sort of country is this? I’m still at the focking AIRPORT!”

About two hours later he was drinking a beer and wandering around our backyard. All of a sudden, he was waving for me to come down and check out something distressing on our gum tree.

Carrot (yelling from the garden) – “MATE THERE’S SOMETHING HERE. CAN YOU COME DOWN! SHARPISH!”

I hurried down to the backyard. Carrot was hesitantly standing guard at the tree.

Carrot (quite agitated) – “Over here mate. C’mon quick.”

I was hoping, after he was carpark-Huntsman’d that he hadn’t stumbled upon anything worse. Our house backs onto thick bush and a creek, so spiders, leaches and ticks, even the odd snake are pretty commonplace. He was staring intently at the tree when I arrived.

He was stressed, beckoned me over and silently pointed at the threat. I was on my guard, but came in close.

Now keep in mind poor Carrot had only been in the country a few hours and there, you wouldn’t believe it, hanging on the side of the big gum tree that I’ve been past a hundred times, was a large, brown… cicada shell.

Carrot – “LOOK OUT!” He was standing safely behind me.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Me – “Relax. It’s just a cicada shell.”

Carrot – “A what? LOOK AT THE MASSIVE EYES AND CLAWS. Looks like an alien. IT’S DEAD AND STILL HANGING ON THE FOCKEN TREE!”

Me – “It’s a harmless insect.”

Carrot – “Insect? IT’S NEAR AS BIG AS ME FOCKEN HAND.”

Me – “Yeah, it outgrew that shell is all.”

Carrot – “NOW IT’S BIGGER?”

Me – “They’re nice though. Their wings are -”

Carrot (interjecting) – “WINGS?? IT CAN FOCKEN FLY??”

Anyway, we were sitting on the veranda later and after three or four more beers Carrot had calmed right down. He was actually starting to relax and see the funny side of his introduction to Aussie nature. But then a Christmas beetle kamikazed into his hair. I didn’t warn him not to sit under the light.

He jumped up but with a seemingly newfound degree of mature resignation, he just dropped his head and laughed. We all did. Through the laughter Carrot said, “I don’t think I can focking do this“. But he laughed again.

I told him that’s exactly what he needed to do. Go with the flow. Don’t try to stand up against Mother Nature in Australia, she’s just too powerful here. You can keep her under control in England, but here you must learn to co-exist!

In an absolute epiphany, it dawned on him that mine was actually sage-like advice. I could see right before my eyes, him take on a new perspective. Just at that moment, he’d completely altered the way he was going to approach his new life in this country. He’d become positive about our closeness to nature. He’d embrace it, not hate it!

His bright new perspective lasted right up to the point that he sat down on the veranda to put on his shoes and a bull-ant went into his boxer shorts and bit him… on the scrotum.

It was a tough first day in Oz.

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Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to be able to claim when meeting a new person at a Hornswood party, that I am in fact… a writer (whereby my wife generally jumps in and proclaims “he’s actually NOT a writer”). If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I write stuff for a few small companies, but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I have set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers