boiled goat or radioactive biscuits?

It is hot. Energy zapping hot. Lay-motionless-and-sweat-hot. The water in the lagoon is warm, and is like swimming in a pool of wee. It rinses off the sweat, but is far from refreshing.

I make my first visit to the shop and I am so hungry that the radioactive packaged biscuits are starting to look like food. I read the odd label to shock myself and wonder again how an entire shop can contain nothing vibrant and fresh. On display in the new glass cabinet, next to the fluorescent puffed balls of hydrolyzed poison, are some bun like offerings. Anything that can remain in a stable state in this heat surely cannot be edible. I return home for a salad of carrot, greens and cucumber.

Our nearest neighbour, Long John, has arrived from the Gold Coast and saved the day with a bunch of bananas. The few we had left were so mushy they went to the goats. We try to ration them for a few days, but they ripen at an alarming rate, and without 24hr power we can’t freeze them for smoothies.

We are invited to a “building site party” of a house that Tom designed. It is customary to acknowledge certain stages of the project – foundations, walls, roof – and on offer is boiled goat and rice. Gee sorry, I have an appointment to scrub the toilet.