Blur O’ Byron Bay

The days have become ablur. Not a blur, mind you, for they are a series of distinctly separate blurs, including the blur of being kicked out of Cheeky Monkeys nightclub, the blur of repeatedly falling off a surfboard, and the one long blur of my daytrip (trip being the operative part of that word) to Nimbin.

The days, each of them, have become blurred. They have become ablur. I stand by my initial typo. Curse thee, backspace key – I shall caress thee not.

I could set aside an entire day to narrate the last 10 days in Byron Bay, but it would be a task both pointless and comparatively tedious. Perhaps I will attempt it on an extended bus ride.

Suffice to say, I have had the most wonderful time. This is not because of any pseudo-glorious deeds or feats of nonsense, as make up my normal travel experience, but because of the fantastic people with whom I have shared my time in Byron Bay.

Normally, I am loathe to stay in any one place for more than a few days. Here, however, I haven’t felt the slightest inclination to leave since I first set foot in the Art Factory Lodge. From the enormous crowd-sourced breakfasts, through the lazy days on the beach, to the intoxicated chaos of the nights…it has been beautiful.

They say a picture says a thousands words. They say this because they are shit at writing. Nevertheless, here are some pictures that do more justice to my final days in Australia than text of any length, no matter how well chosen the words:

Never before have I attempted to surf, slept in a tent on top of a car or listened to Stewie Griffin singing Rocket Man, whilst hurling along country roads dubbed The Roller Coaster and incapable of keeping my eyes open.

Although none of these experiences in isolation would be remarkable, I will cherish the memories because of the people who share them with me.

And now, to remi

Now the soppy shit is done, here is a picture of Odin looking pissed off.

I’m off to count my battle scars and bellow into the mirror until my reflection flees in terror. After all, I am still the Guild Master and there are certain traditions that must be upheld.

For tonight…IS THE FULL MOON!

Odin 2

About the Author
Ed Gamester is a silly man who lives in the United Kingdom. He is the harbinger of Ghost Squad, singer of Gay Bum and author of A Rum Run Awry. He fights, kills and dies for TV and films, and gallivants around the place wrestling, drinking and lifting things for glory and profit. Where Ed treads, there stamp the boots of the Guild. Ed does not wear glasses, but feels this photograph makes him look more intelligent and artistically talented than he is. Feel free to contact him: he is disappointingly affable.

Related Posts

Leave a Reply