Blue

THE past three weeks have been a little odd for me. Now 18 months in, and at the height of winter, I've been feeling a tad under the weather.

I suppose the combination of missing out on 'bezzie's' birthdays and lack of thermometer-busting weather, I've had time to take stock of what cards have been dealt for me. I can usually shake off any home-sickness with wall to wall episodes of Corrie, the Royle Family and 15 to 1 but not even the cringetastic comments from Ann Robinson are cutting the mustard these days.

These feelings, I'm constantly being told, are totally natural and I'd say 98 per cent of the time, I'm happy. But that piffling two per cent of unsurity kicks in now and then. And I don't like it when it does. I get unsettled and emotional and no amount of winery tours or jetski rides or beachside barbecues can shake off my grey cloud.

The last few times I've called 'home', I've been passed around like a hot potato. Having a bit of chit chat with dad, then mum, then bro and over to whoever else is around at the time. But I miss calling round there and watching a bit of TV with them and filling in the advert break with conversational bits and bobs that depicted our day.

The more time I spend here though, the more I know how much I belong here. I was born to live in Australia - with its casual way of life and laid back approach. I love the atmosphere and the people and my new friends, But there's no replacing the loved ones I left behind when we boarded that winged Boeing for 21 hours back in February 2009.

It won't be long before winter is behind us and I can get outside and stuck into the jobs that husband has put on my 'To Do' list. The daffs have sprung up alongside the snowdrops so it's a sure sign that spring is on its way.

Yesterday, we tackled tidying up the back garden, which, after last time, I refused to do with a Flymo that simply isn't upto the job. Husband acquired a petrol mower and tamed the back yard beast in just under three hours. Not a huge fan of horticulture, I want to be sitting in the garden, not working on it.

When phase 3 of conversion work here is up though, in about two years, I'm hoping most of the green stuff will be replaced with the pool that the boys long for. Yes. I think I'll much prefer looking out to blue hues from the comfort of my hammock but there's a whole heap of work that needs to be done first.

Good things come to she who waits...

Behind the scenes

JUST over a month in at job number whatever, I'm getting to grips with what goes on behind the scenes at a tourist attraction.

Being open from 7.30am until 10pm every day of the year except Christmas Day, there's a whole load of human traffic that floats in and out of Peninsula Hot Springs.
I've seen singers, actresses and TV presenters soak up the sulphur while they take a dip in the geo-thermal natural mineral waters with a production crew and big grey fluffy microphone for company.

The thing is I wouldn't know a famous singer, actress or TV presenter from Adam ... unless they were Kylie Minogue, Dame Edna or one of the Wiggles.
I'm still very unfamiliar with Australian celebs from the news desks and game shows of the regular television channels and continue to treat all our visitors with the same meet and greet regime I've adopted. They all get a smile and a bit of banter from me, regardless of their background and celebrity status.

Due in soon is a team of AFL footie players who have booked out one whole section for the day. Friends have armed me with autograph books to take in on that shift but I doubt I'll get to rub shoulders with any of them. Every therapist we have is on standby too, as they're all booked in for massages, but I really don't think it's good office practice to be hovering with a pen and a pad while they lie starkers, face down, getting rubbed down by my colleagues.

As with all places in the public eye, there are unfortunate mishaps. We advise all our guests to keep hydrated and make sure they come out of the naturally heated 37-42C water at 15 minute intervals. Some take heed. Some don't.
Only last weekend, a guest spent more time than he should have in one of the pools and fainted as he climbed out, resulting in knocking himself out on a nearby rock and a subsequent ride in an ambulance.

Another unfortunate incident on one of my shifts was a guest who got himself locked in a changing room for 40 minutes. The hotsprings-hostage was eventually released after staff took the door off the hinges and got him out.
Although a little weary, the disgruntled guest still had the energy to try and negotiate a top of the range therapy package for a return trip. If the experience was as unpleasant as he was making out, surely a return visit would be the last thing on his wishlist...?

My Pommie accent is regularly picked up on and during each shift, I would say about half of the guests ask me where about in England I'm from. They appear shocked when I say I'm Welsh - but that's probably down the the strange accent I now have.

Predominantly Pommie with a good strong Scouse twang, this is interpersed with a bit of Southern Hemisphere slang and tone. I was asked the other day to do a Cockney accent, but failed dismally as it came out all Aussie.

I have evolved into an internationally dialected mongrel ... no wonder no-one can work out where I'm from!