WHAT do you think of when I say Australia? Beaches, barbeques, scorching weather?

Well it seems not. We have had the wettest week ever, all very good for the environmentalists who are urging us all to take four-minute showers and not water the plants but what about those of us who are unemployed and in need of topping up a rapidly disappearing tan.

They must have some marvellous PR people here, fooling the world with tales of sunny blue skies and tropical climates; I mean how often do you see someone in Neighbours wearing a jumper?

Actually the bad weather is a blessing as I am developing a rather paranoid fear of the outdoors. My dad has regaled me with tales of magpies that attack at whim. He tells me the only solution is to carry a stick vertically on your head.

I have not succumbed to this just yet but instead have acquired a walk that resembles that of an alcoholic; weaving from pavement to road and back to avoid their evil beaks.

I should probably point out that no-one else in Australia seems to be scared of these birds – I have actually seen fathers walk under magpie infested trees with a child on their shoulders, offering them like bait under their beady eyes.

Adding to my paranoia was a near-death experience which occurred only yesterday when a spider dived onto my arm from out of nowhere.

Its legs and head were black but its body was a pale grey colour leading me, in my inexperience, to believe it was a deadly white tail whose bite it is rumoured can lead to gangrenous infections.

As if electrocuted I leapt into action, found the nearest can of cockroach killer and sprayed until finally its legs twitched no more.

On closer inspection backed up by some web-based research I realised my mistake, it had not been a white tail, merely a common house spider. Oh well, better safe than sorry.

Anyway, enough dramatics. This week has also been very productive. I have applied for what feels like thousands of jobs, started to make friends and most importantly John has bought us a car.

Not just any car you understand. It is the vehicle made famous by Alf in Home and Away and Wally from Crocodile Dundee – we have ourselves a Ute.

It is a beast – 15ft long, bull bars at the ready but with a sticker stating “seven days without line dancing makes one weak” pasted on the back window – completely ruining its macho image.

Driving the Ute is a whole new ball game for me. It lurches as opposed to cruises and the size of the thing; as a driver with a preference for manoeuvring smaller cars, this means I have no idea where to place myself in the road, leading to a rather dangerous gung ho approach straight down the centre line.

It’s the best fun I’ve had since we arrived!

Not much else to report, all our spare time has been spent on Ute maintenance and staying in avoiding the rain and predators from the animal kingdom.

So, as they say down under, cheerio ya little rippa.