Rite of Passage

So now that Three Paw is safely ensconced with The Pirate at the pad of the the world’s best punk papa .... I am back in Australia visiting my folks. I must confess that I am mightily enjoying the fresh air. It took a few days for me to convince my nostrils that it was ok to inhale. I kept on taking these somewhat abridged sniffs of air until finally my nose realised that the worse smell it would encounter would probably be my own feet.  Reasonably pungent but not quite fetid. 

It feels good to replace the smell of millions of people with smell of eucalyptus and the sound of a million car horns with the sound of  a million birds.  Mind you I  did get dive-bombed by  a magpie the other day for the first time in my life.  I have never actually had  direct beak-on-skull action  before. Not even through my childhood when I would walk along the country roads and hear the ominous ‘woomph woomph’ of the birds’ wings as they came in to attack. I felt a little offended that  a magpie should finally attack me now but have decided to accept it as some long overdue rite of passage.

I must say though it is nice to be somewhere that I can understand all the signs J