Originally published in On Our Selection News October 20, 2016

I’m off for a stint in the big Steak and Kidney and I have to say I’m interested in how this is going to go.

In case my use of the term “Steak and Kidney” didn’t make it clear, I’m not really the most sophisticated of people. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to fit in, but I am glad that the bogan twang seems to be a bit of a trend these days. 

I like to think I strike a charming balance between small town bogan and round-glasses-wearing cynicism. I feel like I could be the novelty among our inner-city countrymen, reconnecting them to that Australian spirit they all pretend to have on Australia Day. I can imagine them looking at me like a Mick Dundee character, and I’ll enjoy playing up to it.

I’ll tell them about how we used to have to do line dancing as our morning exercise in school and about the horse that is allowed into the pub on St Patrick’s Day and they’ll think I’m some kind of Australian legend. I fully expect this yarn spinning will result in a lot of free beer.

Heading to the big smoke is exciting, but I have to say that my views on Sydney are indifferent at best.

For starters, Sydney is the only place in Australia you see being mucked up on disaster movies. When a comet ploughs into the earth, Sydney bloody cops it. If there is some kind of world domination plot, Sydney is the place the baddies launch their attack in Australia. It’s the first place the aliens would hit first if they wanted to invade our country.

If a global emergency strikes, I reckon I’d have a much better chance for survival in Queensland. Because no one in their right mind would want to destroy a place where an iconic bottle tree was filled with cement to keep it alive (it’s my number one tourist destination for when I bring visitors home).

Plus, there are much less people out here and most of them have at least one vehicle suited to off-road conditions. So if we did have to get out of the path of alien spacecraft quickly, there wouldn’t be a traffic jam, nor would there be people trying to navigate the bush in a two-seater smart car that looks like a high-tech esky.

I’m also concerned about the coffee culture of the place. It seems to be very much geared to the grab-and-go caffeine fix, whereas I like to stop and have a pot of tea. I like the idea of coffee – something that gives you energy and makes you poo quicker and means you get to pretend to be early -2000s Paris Hilton while walking around with a Starbucks cup. Loving coffee is the ultimate mark of being a grown up. It can tell the world how busy and important and goddamned fancy you are without saying a word. I love being busy and important and goddamned fancy. But I really don’t like it all that much. Plus I really don’t want to get to a point where I need coffee, and start telling people how much “I need my morning coffee, LOL.” People who repeatedly tell the world how much they “just need a coffee” need to have something stronger, like rat poison. And at this point, any type of coffee will do – even that powdered stuff that looks like Milo but most definitely isn’t Milo. Because there’s nothing more depressing than the highlight of a middle-aged person’s day being a cup of instant coffee in the scummy staff room. 

I chose to stick with tea, not only because it makes me alternative but traditional, but also because it’s reasonably cheap. Unless you go to a cafe. At a cafe, you’ll be charged for a tea at a similar price as a coffee. And it’s basically a fucking teabag.  I have nothing against teabags, in fact I use them almost exclusively behind closed doors, but if I’m out it’s hard to justify paying three or four bucks for a teabag, hot water and a disposable cup that’s going straight to landfill. If I’m paying $3.50 for a teabag, it better have more than tea in it. 

And then there’s the issue of daylight savings. Everyone in New South Wales seems to love it, but to me it’s just an entire state living in delusion and attempting to play god by changing the fabric of time. Being an hour ahead means readjusting your body clock and makes it mighty annoying to call Mum and Dad at a convenient time. And with so much happening in the big smoke, I suspect I’ll have a lot to say when I check in with back home. Stay tuned.