Airport Jelly
More stressful events are passing one by one, and I’m increasingly able to focus on the big event: I’m shortly leaving for China and Indonesia with my partner (who’s never been overseas).
I’m also taking happy pills again, and just had an extremely informal visit from my landlord (our first semi-inspection in a year), which motivated me to clean the whole house (which resulted in minor cuts, bruises, burns, muscle pains, and oddly sore fingers). Having a clean house makes me feel much more peaceful. And I think I just did my absolute last shop before Christmas. Since we’ll be in Sydney for a week before going to China, that means no more grocery shopping this year. (We have a house and catsitter for the whole time, yay!)
China and Indonesia are obvious choices for us to go to. For one thing, we already live in a wealthy Western country, so why visit another one? They’re nice and all, but not worth visiting as a first priority (our to-do list is basically: visit the third world, have kid/s, buy a house. It also works as a ten-year plan, but it really works best in that exact order). The reason visiting the third world is so important is that, for twelve years, I planned and trained to live permanently in Indonesia – probably as a volunteer teacher living in or near a slum. By way of preparation, I have visited Indonesia six times, I speak the language fluently, and I even have a favourite slum.
That life is over for me, but it’s something I thought my partner needed to understand, at least a little. You really need to see – and smell – emaciated children to truly know our world is. . . just wrong.
So why China? Simple – my partner’s brother is currently living there.
We’re not doing any volunteer work, and we’re staying with friends (rather than aid workers, as I usually do), so it’s a different sort of trip for me too. In China (based in Beijing) we plan to see the Great Wall, a few things around Beijing, and go to the ice sculpture city H-something) a bit to the North. We’ll also have a six-hour stopover in Guangzhou on the way back. And, perhaps most importantly, we’ll be eating Chinese food.
In Indonesia we’ll visit Mount Bromo (an active volcano), and (I really hope) eat soto at Jakarta domestic airport. There’s a little restaurant there, and I LOVE their soto (which gets translated as “Javanese chicken soup” – ingredients include sweet soy sauce, lime juice, and coconut milk. Mmm).
I have cunningly set up the first twitter tale for 2010 to take place in China, Indonesia and Australia, so that when I’m able to blog (via email to my parents if there’s an issue with the Chinese government’s anti- social media stance – they’ll be putting the story on twitter and facebook, plus posting some pre-prepared twittertales.wordpress.com blogs) I can just say what I’ve been doing, and it adds to the story. So for the first two weeks of January, there’ll be more of me in http://twittertales.wordpress.com than here. The story is called “The Spy Who Shoved Me”.
The airports I’ll be visiting are (in order): Sydney, Shanghai, Beijing, Guangzhou, Jakarta, Denpasar, Brisbane, Canberra. We’ll be flying with three different companies. What could possibly go wrong?
Daylight Day 76: Dangerous Baths
Spent the night listening to Pi moan and the Dads discuss whether I’d taste more like chilli sauce or peppermint chocolate when they ate me.
*
As the sun rose, the EMOs left to huddle inside. I saw their eyes, watching me. Watching my blood-flushed face. Getting ever thirstier.
*
I said, “You’ll have to climb up here. And what’s the point? What does it really mean?”
They discussed it, and I bought myself one more day.
——————————————
Since our hero isn’t able to bath at the moment, it’s more or less appropriate to share a passage from a book I just finished. It’s “Victorian London”, one of a series of historical books by Liza Picard. Like most non-fiction, it’s often a wade through educationalness (can you believe I finished uni?) but there are many moments of sheer brilliance.
This passage discusses the various methods used to heat baths (at the time, they were made of metal):
. . . Or you might prefer the more direct application of heat to the bath itself, such as Defries’ Magic Heater, which for the expenditure of 2d-worth of gas would produce a hot bath in six minutes – and, one would imagine, a pool of molten metal and a violent explosion fairly soon afterwards. Then there were those terrifying contraptions aptly called geysers since they were as unpredictable and uncontrollable as anything in nature, often resulting in blowing off your eyebrows. They assumed (1) a room free of draughts which would, and usually did, blow out the vital match which you held at the pilot-light nozzle; (2) presence of mind, at that point, to turn off the gas supply; (3) strong nerves; (4) an unquenchable desire for a hot bath, then, there, and not later or elsewhere: all to be coordinated while appropriately dressed for the bath you hoped to take.
Daylight Day 75: Heavy Metal Gift Guide
Pi thrashed in his bonds, attracting Ed and the Dads. They said, “Come down, Bell, we’re thirsty.”
Still not EMO – but for how long?
————————————–
Okay, so half of this blog is lifted straight off Steff Metal. I admit it. And she really outdid herself this time (and I’m speaking as someone who is definitely not a metalhead):
http://steffmetal.com/heavy-metal-christmas-shopping-guide/
Here’s a free sample: 
Daylight Day 74: Cheer Up Emo Kid
This photo was taken by someone on their holiday (with thanks to NineMSN)
Have I mentioned I’m training an army of attack gerbils? Clearly this is someone I should recruit at once.
Daylight Day 73: Guest Author
I crept into Pi’s room at night and dragged him into our old treehouse. He didn’t like his gag – or being tied onto the roof.
Then I waited.
—————————————————-
Today’s guest author is Australian writer Crisetta MacLeod.
NUMBERS
My little sister was such a clever little thing – cute as a button, and learned to read almost as soon as she learned to walk. Her favourite game was with her numbers, though. Our Dad is a “Numbers Man” in the state government, which he thinks is a huge joke because he has always loved figures, originally trained as an accountant, then got into statistics, that kind of thing. He always played number games with us, right from when we were babies.
Little sister Una (“Number One”, Dad called her) really lapped up his games. I swear she understood numbers better than I did, and I was four years older than her. She especially liked her Cuisenaire rods, and Dad would play sums with her and she would whip those wooden bricks around in a flash, and come up with an answer. Then came the day when he asked her “What’s 7 plus 4?” expecting her usual arranging of her rods, but the minx twinkled at him and said “11” – she was beginning to do things in her little wise head!
Dad had to go to Switzerland for a conference of some sort and he brought her home a box of really enchanting numbers, carved in wood and painted, each number a quaint little person. How she loved those! One of her favourite games was “Looking after Number One”. She used to tuck Number One, her namesake, up in a tiny cot at night and sing him number songs. I’d hear her singing away …”One is one and all alone and ever more shall be so!” And then she’d whisper to him, “I’ll always be your friend, you won’t be alone at all!
Dad loved to show off her precocious number skills when colleagues came for dinner. One night someone asked “And what’s your favourite number?” and with a wicked look on her angelic face she replied “Eleventy-four!” and waited for the condescending, amused smiles around the table. Then she said “That’s what I used to call it when I was little – it’s the number of the bus that goes past here all the way to Daddy’s work! And I think it sounds much nicer than one hundred and fourteen!”
Then a black day arrived when Dad was in big trouble at work – I didn’t understand what was going on, but “We just don’t have the numbers!” was repeated despairingly – around the dinner table, to Mum, on the phone, again and again “We don’t have the numbers!” in an increasingly exasperated and anxious voice.
Una loved her Daddy. The poor wee soul packed up her precious number friends in her Bob the Builder backpack, including her precious Number One who she dressed in a tiny jacket which had belonged to a Teddy. If Daddy needed numbers, she would give him hers – her very best treasures. She slipped out of the house clutching 20 cents in her little hand, and went to catch the eleventy-four bus to Daddy’s work, so that he would have the very best numbers and not be worried and sad any more.
She didn’t understand how to catch a bus. She had never even been on one, since we drove everywhere. She was knocked down and killed by the eleventy-four.
Her number was up.
Daylight Day 72: Cheer Up Emo Kid
Dreamed I was EMO. I walked into the sun and sparkled like fire – then I blew up! It was VERY sad. When I woke up, I knew what to do.
———————————————
If the EMO pandemic hasn’t got you yet, these jokes will help:
1) Why did Harry fall off his bike?
Because Harry was a fish.
2) Why did the koala fall out of the tree?
Because it was dead.
Why did the second koala fall out of the tree?
Because it was stapled to the first one.
Why did the third koala fall out of the tree?
Peer pressure.
Why did the fourth koala fall out of the tree?
Because it was hit by three other koalas.
Why did the fifth koala fall out of the tree?
Because it was a kangaroo.
3) What brown and green and runs really fast?
I don’t know. What’s brown and green and runs really fast?
A tree.
But. . . trees don’t run fast.
Yeah, sorry about that.
Daylight Day 71: Story So Far
2 Oct
EMO used to stand for ‘emotional’ – the teen subgroup that’s only happy to be sad. Now it’s become a disease eerily similar to vampirism.
*
My name’s Bell. I considered being EMO once, but then I saw a pretty butterfly and got over myself. Got bored and decided to save the world.
*
This is the documentary tale of the brave few fighting to find a cure for EMO (or, failing that, a quick and easy way to kill all those vampires dead).
3 Oct
In Civic, Ed kissed me and sighed. “Oh, Bell. Cloudy days are so deep.”
“Oh no!” I cried. “Ed, tell me you haven’t been bitten by an EMO!”
*
He didn’t laugh once at our preview of “Saw VI”. I yanked him into a rare patch of sun – and he sparkled. My boyfriend had turned EMO!
*
Finally he confessed: “My mum bit me.”
“Your MUM!?”
He sighed, “Sad, I know.”
“Do you want to drink my blood now?”
“Er. . . no,” he lied.
4 Oct
On the news: “The EMO subculture has now become a pandemic. EMO teens can be recognised by their depression, dark clothes, and bad poetry.”
*
I walked in the yard just as Mum set some weeds on fire. “Mum,” I said through the smoke, “Ed’s EMO.”
“That’s nice dear.”
*
My name’s pretty bad, but my brother is Pi. He’s ten and wears a labcoat. I told him, “Ed’s EMO.”
“Hm. Can I do experiments on him?”
“NO!”
5 Oct
“Ed, it’s the holidays. Don’t you feel a LITTLE happy?”
“No,” he said. “Bell, would it be okay if I drank you – just a little?”
“NO!”
*
“Exodermal Melanin Occlusion is spreading fast,” the news said. “Symptoms now include sparkling in sunshine, darkening hair, and whining.”
*
Ed tried to bite me, and I tripped over another EMO as I dodged him. Bruised my knees. Still not EMO, despite my black hair and long fringe.
6 Oct
Still not EMO, despite drenching rain. All the EMOs are thrilled they’re not sparkling today (Ed almost smiled). Bring back the sun!
*
“Cheer up,” said Mum, “I’ve decided to have a wedding.”
“But. . . you’re married.”
“Don’t spoil it. It’s exactly what all those EMOs need.”
7 Oct
I was dying my hair when Ed called. “Want to play EMO baseball with my family?”
“No.”
He cried until I hung up.
My hair turned green. Oops.
8 Oct
Pi asked me for Ed’s old hairbrush, so I humoured him and brought it. He said, “Bell, I think there might be a cure for EMOs!”
*
Still not EMO, although Ed keeps trying to bite me. Awkward!
9 Oct
Mum said, “Don’t you just love weddings?”
“Does Dad even know?”
“Hush,” said Mum.
Our shopgirl wept quietly as she pinned Mum’s dress.
10 Oct
“Do you think a wedding could cure EMOs?” I asked.
Pi snorted and said, “Has Ed bitten you at all?”
“No, we just make out.”
Pi looked ill.
11 Oct
I saw Dad writing a journal and looking mournful. Uh-oh. Still not EMO myself, despite blood-starved boyfriend and lime green hair.
*
“Don’t let ANYONE drink your blood,” said the news. “Authorities recommend hitting EMOs with cricket bats. Stay alert, not alarmed.”
12 Oct
Ed wore an overcoat and hat to school. Our teachers freaked and put him in detention. I think he bit Mr Joh, the science teacher. Awkward!
*
Ed and I wandered the mall and saw heaps of decorations. Ed sighed, “Christmas is so deep. It makes me feel all –”
“Sad?”
“How’d you know?”
13 Oct
Mr Joh burst into tears while telling us about the reproductive cycle of fruit flies. Ed gave him tissues. This EMO pandemic is so wrong.
14 Oct
Maths class was full of sighs and weeping. (Life hasn’t changed much.) I was put on detention for being insensitive about life’s deep pain.
*
The principal ran detention. He looked thirsty. I shrank in my seat. “Tomorrow,” he told me, “come to my office. Bring your school spirit.”
15 Oct
I brought my school spirit and a cricket bat. The principal grabbed my arm but I whacked him and dived under his desk until the bell rang.
*
Still not EMO, despite listening to principal discuss philosophy for the entire lunch hour. Thank you, cricket bat, thank you.
16 Oct
Ed took me to a graveyard for a date. It was crowded. He licked me on the neck, and I kneed him in the groin. “Don’t you love me?” he wept.
*
Still not EMO, despite kneeing EMO boyfriend in the groin. Actually, that was pretty fun.
17 Oct
I said to Pi, “You know how you wanted to experiment on Ed? Go for it.”
“Thank you thank you!”
It was great to see his childish joy.
18 Oct
Ed called and said, “My Mum wants to know how you got that lovely green in your hair.”
“Well, I –”
“Oh, what’s the point?!” he cried.
*
Pi and I snuck over, gagged Ed, and dragged him home. He sparkled all the way. We locked him in the spare room with a saucer of rat’s blood.
Still not EMO, despite Ed’s slurping of his rat blood. He always was a messy eater. Now he stinks too (he owns only one all-black outfit).
19 Oct
Still not EMO, despite Dad cornering me in the laundry to lecture me on the meaninglessness of his existence. Hope we find a cure.
20 Oct
Caught Pi measuring Ed’s fringe. “When do you start experimenting on him?” I asked.
He said, “Soon. I’m gathering data.”
Still not EMO.
*
Pi said, “Should we ungag Ed? Mum and Dad are fine with him being here.”
“No,” I said, “If we did that, he might start talking again.”
21 Oct
Is being obsessed with Ed’s hair a symptom of EMO? Pi was measured it AGAIN. I wish he’d go into the sunshine so I could see if he sparkles.
22 Oct
“Eureka!” Pi yelled from the EMO room. I ran in. Pi brandished his clipboard. “EMO makes your fringe grow!”
“How is that useful exactly?”
*
Still not EMO, even though my boyfriend has better hair than me. On the up side, Pi stood in sunlight for me – no sparkles. Unlike Dad.
23 Oct
“Oh,” Dad sighed, “weddings always make me cry.”
“No they don’t! You always laugh at the priest wearing a dress. Won’t that be fun?”
“No.”
24 Oct
I felt mean and gave Ed his ipod and speaker. He played “Bleeding Love” for twelve hours. Still not EMO, though after that I do want to cry.
25 Oct
Ed’s Mum rang. I said, “Erm. . . Did you want Ed back?”
She sighed and said, “I don’t deserve him. You keep him.”
“Thanks. Thanks SO much.”
26 Oct
Came home from school to find Pi wrestling Ed. They broke apart and looked at me guiltily. “Ed! No biting!” I said.
“Who me?” he said.
*
Dobbed on Pi, but Mum wasn’t concerned. “Healthy exercise is just what EMOs need. What do you think about a red colour scheme?”
“Mu-um!”
27 Oct
Found Ed pinned helplessly under Pi’s ten-year old foot. “This gets easier by the day!” said Pi.
I said, “We already KNEW EMOs were weak.”
Still not EMO, despite my boyfriend getting regularly beaten up by my nerdy little brother. Dad said red is a very emotional colour. Great.
28 Oct
Mr Joh said life is a meaningless series of unconnected events, so there’s no point studying. Finally this pandemic has an up side!
29 Oct
Pi enjoyed demonstrating his ability to restrain Ed with a single finger.
Mum and Dad’s wedding is set for thirty November.
Still not EMO.
30 October
Mum said, “Be my bridesmaid.”
“Sure – but won’t it be hard to keep your guests from biting one another – enclosed spaces, and all that?”
31 Oct
Finally a weekend! No more sightings of Mr Joh and the principal sharing a tissue box. No more in-class essays on HOW I FEEL. Just Ed. D’oh!
1 November
“Can you believe it’s my wedding month already?” trilled Mum.
Dad and I exchanged a glance of woe. I caught myself and checked for sparkles.
*
Still not EMO. How can my hair be so green without falling out? Maybe I’ve become an anti-EMO. If only I could believe that.
2 Nov
Someone with a hand-drawn Red Cross badge came looking for donations today. I’m pretty sure they don’t usually collect blood door-to-door.
3 Nov
The art teacher made us draw self-portraits. Most of the class mixed their paint with real tears. Went home and bashed head against wall.
4 Nov
The newsreader said, “Our alert has been raised to red – a deep, emotional red. You may as well get bitten. What does it matter anyway?”
5 Nov
All TV cancelled in favour of OC re-runs. Pi and I sat watching Ed cry for two hours. His fringe grew visibly. Still not EMO (pretty sure).
6 Nov
Spent our date night feeding Ed different types of animal blood. He likes dog best. I chose not to ask where Pi got it from. Dad likes cat.
7 Nov
Ed played “Bleeding Love” until I smashed his ipod speaker. He said I was unsupportive and tried to bite me. I’ve got to stay alert!
8 Nov
Decided to confirm Pi’s previous experiment, and challenged Ed to fisticuffs. Beat him easily every time. Science is fun.
9 Nov
I asked the school counsellor for advice on helping friends with EMO-related depression.
“It’s not depression,” she said, “It’s TRUTH.”
10 Nov
For English, Miss Winter read “Wuthering Heights”. It was impossible to understand, because she was sobbing so hard.
Still not EMO.
11 Nov
Our French teacher lectured us today on the deep sadness of all European nations. Luckily, she did most of it in French.
Still not EMO.
12 Nov
In History, Mr Theo told us the World Wars were largely pointless. And so was the Industrial Revolution. And everything else.
Still not EMO.
13 Nov
The principal interrupted maths to bite most of the front row. When the sun shone in the window, the sparkles were blinding.
Still not EMO.
14 Nov
Ed said if I loved him I’d let him bite me. He was too weak to try, but I kicked him in the groin anyway. Suddenly my week got better.
15 Nov
Mum hung out washing and my heart stopped. She was sparkling.
“Mum! You’re EMO!” I cried.
She said, “Nonsense. Look again.”
She was fine.
*
“Pi, I swear she was sparkling one moment and not sparkling the next.”
“Impossible,” he said.
I said, “You’re right. It must be the stress.”
16 Nov
“Two weeks to the wedding!” Mum yelled, waking me.
At least I could be certain she wasn’t EMO. Dad drew sad smileys on the invitations.
17 Nov
Mum picked fresh tomatoes for our dinner, and once again I could have sworn she was sparkling. But when I blinked, she wasn’t. Weird.
18 Nov
“Bell! Bell!” said Pi.
I said, “What?”
“You were right! Mum has a natural immunity.”
“Fantastic.”
“I know. We have to clone her!”
“Pardon?”
19 Nov
“I have to what now?” I asked Pi.
He said, “Just ask Dad how often he bites Mum.”
“But –”
“We need to know. And I’m WAY too young to ask.”
*
Still not EMO, despite finding out Dad gives Mum hickies “every day or two”. I certainly FEEL sick. But will their grossness save the world?
20 Nov
I helped Pi get his cloning machine out of the shed. “And you DIDN’T win the science prize for this?”
He shrugged and said, “Nah. Volcanos.”
21 Nov
I got Mum to agree that she wished there were two of her doing all that wedding prep. She sat in Pi’s cloning machine and BOOM! Two Mums.
*
Still not EMO, despite suddenly copping twice as much wedding talk. I wish we could cure EMOs without actually talking to people.
22 Nov
Mum2 refused to get bitten. “Clones are people too. We have rights.”
“We?” said Pi.
That’s when Mum2 introduced Mum3, Mum4 and Mum5.
23 Nov
“Bell,” said Mum, “don’t be upset, but I’m going to be my own bridal party. Won’t it be fun?”
“Are ANY of you EMO yet?”
“Just your fathers.”
24 Nov
Ed’s coming to the wedding, because “it’ll be SUPER deep.” Tissue prices are rising. Still not EMO, despite getting shafted as bridesmaid.
25 Nov
Mum spent an hour crying due to Mum3 fitting her wedding dress better. I definitely saw sparkles. Then she went for a walk and got better.
26 Nov
Dad’s hair was already darkening because of EMO. He dyed it black for the wedding. His fringe is nearly chin-length. Still not EMO.
*
Pi crept into my room at night with a handful of syringes. “We need their blood! The Mums. Any one will do.”
I’m not sure he’s coping.
27 Nov
Tried to corner Mum5 but she just laughed at me. “I know a million more tricks than you, sweetheart!”
Still not EMO, despite my ten parents.
28 Nov
Pi yelled, “Bell! Mum3 is sparkling. We can grab her while she’s EMO and weak!
I ran out, but by the time we reached her Mum3 was fine.
*
Still not EMO, despite a clone of my Mum giving me a smack for being disrespectful. I hate it when that happens.
29 Nov
Tried to reason with the Mums. Big mistake. They were far too busy experimenting with hairstyles to want to hear how to save humanity.
*
Still not EMO, despite ten parents alternately telling me to (1) cheer up or (2) stop being so shallow now the wedding’s tomorrow. Bite me.
30
Dad avoided a ray of stained-glass sunlight. All the Mums glowed, and Mum3 sparkled. Mum walked down the aisle with a huge smile. . .
*
. . . and was tackled by Mum2. “This moment belongs to ME!” screamed Mum4, and jumped on top. Mum5 weighed in. Mum3 bit Mum5 on the leg.
*
I comforted Mum, saying the wedding was certainly lively. She passed me a full syringe. “I drew blood from Mum2 after Mum4 knocked her out.”
1 Dec
It was a relief to be back at school, even with Mr Joh’s sudden fascination with every Tim Burton movie ever made. Still not EMO.
2 Dec
Pi woke me, yelling, “It’s aliiiiive!”
“What?” “Mum2’s blood. I got Dad to drink a bit, and now the rest’s gone EMO.”
I went back to sleep.
*
Still not EMO, despite little brother developing his muttering skills suddenly. Poor Pi. He might not be EMO, but he’s also not. . . right.
3 Dec
Awoke with horrible thought and went to Pi. “You said Dad drank some of the blood sample. So his BACKWASH turned it EMO?”
“Yep. Ed’s, too.”
*
Still not EMO, despite beginning to wonder if blood tastes good. Ed says it’s like milo combined with tabasco sauce. I need to get out more.
4 Dec
The 7pm Project began with ten minutes of solemn reflection (Dave cried, then bit Carrie). Marge Simpson now wears black. I’m still not EMO.
5 Dec
Pi followed Mum around with Mum2’s blood vial clutched in his free hand. By the end of the day, the blood was dried, smelly – and un-EMO.
*
Still not EMO, though Pi won’t stop coming up with ever-weirder theories about Mum’s self-curing ability. He dissected our guinea pig, too.
6 Dec
Pi stumbled in holding his neck. Blood leaked through his fingers. As he fainted, he whispered, “It’s Mum’s behaviour, Bell, not her blood.”
*
“Please, Pi, try to focus. What did you mean it’s Mum’s behaviour? What is it she does that’s so different?” He shrugged, “Who cares?”
*
Still not EMO. My poor brother. . . Dad bit humanity’s best hope of recovery. Wait a sec. . . AM I EMO? That was practically poetry! Oh no!
7 Dec
Wandered the mall searching for anyone who wasn’t sparkling. I was all alone. Six Santas sat in a gutter, weeping and tolling their bells.
8 Dec
Got chased by three sad elves. Weird and frightening. Began disguising myself with dark clothes and morose expression. Green hair unhelpful.
9 Dec
“We’re thirsty,” said the newsreader. “We’re coming to find you, and we’ll drink to your health with your own sweet delicious blood!”
10 Dec
Pi came into my room. “You’re one of us, aren’t you Bell? You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”
Ed and four Dads shadowed him. I ran.
11 Dec
Found Mum at her work. She wasn’t sparkly. “How do you do it?” I begged. She said, “A good heart and plenty of fresh air, that’s how!”
Salty and Nuts
My downward spiral into madness continues.
Much swearing.
Have survived numerous family events (including Christmas – we have it in early December now).
Things have got to get better at some point. Real soon.
Still waiting for that publisher to reply (I sent them the book in April).
Also my contraceptive meds probably aren’t helping.
Daylight Day 70: When Good Dolphins Go Bad
Pi came into my room. “You’re one of us, aren’t you Bell? You don’t want to be left behind, do you?” Ed and four Dads shadowed him. I ran.
———————————
If you thought humans were the only species vulnerable to EMO, you’re wrong.
This is a genuine news story.
Angry Dolphin Bullies Swimmers Off NZ Coast
An aggressive four-year-old bottlenose dolphin has been accused of bullying swimmers and waterskiers in New Zealand.
Rescue services had to be called after the animal’s intimidating behaviour prevented six people from swimming back to shore in separate incidents in the past week.
Moko, who weighs some 250kg and used to live off Mahia on New Zealand’s east coast, was initially praised for his friendly nature.
But since making Gisborne his home in September he has trapped swimmers, overturned kayaks, tipped over waterskiers, and interfered with surf lifesaving training.
Marine Science expert Professor Mark Orams has compared Moko’s personality change to humans going through puberty.
“He’s doing what we all do as teenagers,” he said.
“He’s testing his boundaries, but he’s testing them on humans – and humans are coming off second best.”
However, he expressed sympathy for the animal.
“Here you’ve got a very lonely bottlenose who loves human contact, but he’s getting way too big and strong for it,” he said.
The expert said he was worried the situation would get worse, with either Moko being hurt or causing major injuries.
In one incident last month the dolphin stole a 16-year-old boy’s surfboard while the boy was 500m offshore.
The mammal’s dangerous behaviour has become so bad authorities plan to send out text alerts to Gisborne residents warning them to be careful during the New Zealand summer.
Olympic kayaking double gold medallist and surf lifesaving instructor Alan Thompson said reports of Moko’s behaviour were exaggerated.
He told The New Zealand Herald: “If you don’t like the way he plays, then don’t go out in the water.”
Daylight Day 69: Driving Miss Deadly
“We’re thirsty,” said the newsreader. “We’re coming to find you, and we’ll drink to your health with your own sweet delicious blood!”
————————————————
The entire Western world becomes much more stressed in December, and it shows most dangerously on our roads.
Yesterday I saw:
3 cars drive over traffic islands.
3 people nearly killed (several pipes fell off a plumber’s van only a few cars ahead of three motorcyclists – in a 100 kph zone). Luckily no-one was hurt.
Uncountable numbers speeding and/or tailgating.
1 person beeping at me for slowing down in roadworks.
3 dead kangaroos
2 other dead animals (one of which was a family pet)
Any fun near-death stories to share where you are?
Felicity Banks 