Shouts From Down Under

When your Kentucky experience is distracted by Parkes, well.

Some statements these days, dressed up in the justifying ruse of "memes", aren't necessarily accurate.



I mean, who's to say you aren't smiling because you just found the $100 note you lost earlier, or you fell asleep after smoking a joint, or you are so impressed by the cleverness of your teacher, the one who signed the meme above, that your head bows in happy acknowledgement?

We all know there are many signs of the times that don't guide us with quite the accuracy and responsibility they should.

There are those Exit signs everywhere in buildings on doors that are clearly not exits unless you set off clamorous alarms and invoke the wrath of Whatever Incorporated's management and security teams.

All this reminds me of our holiday to see my parents, that now seems so long ago that I can't remember their faces, or whether we had McDonald's, KFC or Chinese takeaway during the long drive to Melbourne from Coonabarabran. (Whew, finally finished typing that long name of my home town.)

The fast food purchased and wafting its oh so lovely aroma around the car interior, we drove south out of the town of Parkes, searching for somewhere to pull off the busy highway and relax. My mouth was watering, and something I've seriously noticed (and this really is serious ) is with Bipolar, well, at least with my Bipolar, if I get hungry for too long, I get very grumpy. I just can't help it. I've tried and tried to stop myself, but eventually I see red if a meal is delayed. Its not pretty, it's not mature and I'm not proud of being a grumblebum like that, but that's how it is.

So, we are vrooming along nicely, and there we spot a picnic area sign, indicating to turn off a couple hundred metres up the road, on the left. (Yes, we drive in the left hand lane, in right hand drive cars, in Australia, in case you didn't realise. That's quite a few "in"s)

Well, I have never, in all my born days (this was before the Zombie invasion when all our days after that were / are unborn / undead) seen a place so alien, inhospitable, barren, uninviting and lacklustre.

In a word, it was hostile.

You couldn't have made people feel more unwelcome if it had been council planned. (Then again, we know how those sort of plans work out)

We were the only humans to inhabit the place, animals having more brains I suppose, and nobody was silly enough to join us during our enjoyment of the stopover either.
I'll summarise the welcome mat "scene" we came across.

The road was potholed and almost 4wd only. This is only 50 metres off the highway...
The Armco railings were rusty, bent and twisted, as if they'd been there since Adam worked for the council in biblical days.
The picnic "hut" had a sign nailed to it. "Weed-killer and insecticide has been used in this area. Hazardous!" You could see by the dead grass as far as the horizon, that they weren't kidding. Every bit of green life was now faded, brown, and sad.
There was a very solid looking steel plate box on a post, the sign blandly stating to "Dispose of your syringes here".
No toilets. The sign advised (strongly hinted) that the picnic areas further North, or South, would be a much better proposition.
Over further we spied a thoughtful provision of a water tank where the public could take their fill of refreshing H20.
The sign prohibited drinking. Poison!
Another sign shrieked about a Gas Line underneath the soil and we were not to dig there. I surely didn't intend to get out our garden spade just now. Not before KFC time anyway.
Still, we were determined to eat, and very soon.
But, it's a boiling hot day as only Australian bushfire season summers know how to dish it up, hotter than our KFC by now, that's for sure.
What's this? A picnic table with worn out Caterpillar Grader blades welded to the posts.

You could have fried eggs on them.



I'm surprised there was no trefoil sign indicating high levels of nuclear radiation. Seemed fitting.

The safest bet was to stay in the car, get stuck into the chicken drumsticks and Wicked Wings, and leave the finger lickin good "picnic area" to the poor truckies or whoever else was forced to put up with this forsaken ground.

Just to help with the appetite, we noticed the "lawn" round about had been recently slashed, exposing lots of neat little piles of used loo paper, empty drink cans and other unmentionable refuse. Charmed, I'm sure. But, I do like KFC, and I managed not to choke that much. Love those little refresher towels, eh?

Yes, we did what was indicated by the sign. We had our snacks, and drove out of there. What a memorable day.



I'm left wondering just how accurate all those signs were. But sometimes you have to trust your instincts, don't you? Move on, when the man says move on.

As Bob (retired) says in the comments section below,

'tis sad. Very sad.


Sparky