Got up late: half past eight; plenty of time, and it\'s raining.
By half past ten, emptied the boats again: still nothing worth complaining.
By three o\'clock, after mortar and rocks, my foot was aching.
Unloaded the truck, got rid of the muck, headed back to the shed...
Instead of parking in my usual spot, I get bogged instead!
Backwards and forwards, Backwards and forwards..
Life can be a bitch!
Had a round; settled down: gathering my thoughts...(remember I am rich)...
Gum boots gone; now in thongs:
One ingrown toenail; and one plantafashafucitiitass.
Both feet gone..
(I once thought that bogan men my age wore thongs because they were cheap..at this point I can\'t wear shoes, and definitely not bare feet)
For all i know I could loose a toe!
But that would not divided us.
Jacked her up (that\'s the truck), dug out under the back wheels; removed the mud, then with a thud, rocks were revealed.
Now in my thongs, slipping along; gathered armfuls of fresh flat stones; laid them up from under the tyres, in a makeshift Roman road.
Gone into the truck, and with more than luck, she inched herself away...
until it start slipping again.
Handbrake on, call it a d a y.
Now on reflection: to this my song is sung; trials are for perfection, if we are to become...one.
Trouble, strife, all through life, but where is the dawning?
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.