“A gutful of what?”, you may well ask.

Before answering that, first allow me take you on a little journey back in time – to 2004…..

Back then, my wife and I were living in Australia, the so-called “lucky country”. I guess it was just that when compared to so many other places in the world – the poorer parts of Asia, Indo-neeees-ia, the good ol’ US of A, Mother England, Afreeka and the many camel-racing, oil-a-plenty sheikdoms in the Middle East, blah, blah.

BUT….”down-under” – the home of kangaroos, Fosters beer and “put a prawn on the barbie” tradition, by 2004 was a designer -made accident just waiting to happen….and we could see it coming.

Sure – I was making a bucketload of money (through a hell of a lot of hard work over many years, mind you). We lived in what many would call a mansion, on a lake-front Gold Coast, Queensland plot of some 900 square metres, had a growing collection of antiques, fine porcelain and a bunch of other ‘pretty’ stuff plus two cats.

It wasn’t enough, though. We had become progressively disenchanted with the “Rules and Regulations” of the “nanny-state” regime, with the ever-burgeoning tax imposts and with the lack of social contact with real people (I never did enjoy the BS ethos of “keeping up with the Joneses”, an aspect of Australian society that was more artificial in need than a guy professing to want a butt implant!). What is with THAT, anyway?!

Life's a BeachSo, on one of our many getaway trips to the South Pacific island nation of Vanuatu, in July 2004, we bought ourselves a nice little 2-acre lot of land, 15 minutes from the capital, Port Vila – right on the beach, before returning to OZ.

Then it happened. Well, a whole lot of things, actually and they were all things that made us declare –

“Enough! We’ve had a bloody gutful and we’re outa here! … and here we’ve been for the past nine years (to be continued…)

  1. A lovely introduction, Watcher. I look forward to the next installment.


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