#corrugated iron sheet

[kasa51]

LPG cylinder by kazu saito

[marcoroofingau]

Corrugated Colorbond Roofing | Marco Roofing

Choosing the right roofing for your home is an important decision, and one that needs to consider the location of your property, your budget, functionality, style considerations, and longevity. There are many different options out there, but two of the most popular include corrugated colorbond and tile.

Corrugated colorbond roofing is a steel-coated material that has become a popular choice for Australian homes. It has undergone rigorous testing to survive Australia’s harsh conditions, and is available in a range of colours that can complement any home. It has a clean aesthetic that works well with modern homes, but can also be used on older or more traditional houses to add a contemporary finish and raise the value of the home.

One of the major benefits of colorbond roofs is that they’re much lighter than tiles. While a tiled roof can be very heavy, a colorbond roof is around 1/10th of the weight of a tiled roof meaning that the supporting roof frame doesn’t need to be as complex, reducing costs and installation time. Additionally, a tiled roof absorbs water which can add weight, but a metal roof does not.

Another advantage of a colorbond roof is that it can be installed more quickly than a tiled roof. Unlike a standing seam metal roof which is often quite labor-intensive and requires a skilled hand by a roofing contractor, a corrugated colorbond roof can be screwed onto the existing rafters using standard screws. This saves on labour and installation costs, as well as being more efficient for the builder.

Additionally, a colorbond roof can be easily sealed to resist the elements. While a tiled roof requires regular maintenance to prevent the growth of mold, moss, and mildew, a simple spray down with fresh water can keep your colorbond roof looking like new.

Colorbond roofs also offer improved thermal insulation, saving on energy bills in the long run. Their reflective properties help to bounce back penetrating heat, keeping your house cool and comfortable and lowering air conditioning usage. This can be complemented with solar thermal heating technology to make your house even more energy efficient.

Lastly, colorbond is non-combustible and therefore safer to use in bushfire prone areas than tiles, which can be very flammable. Having a non-combustible roof can greatly reduce the cost and risk of your rebuild if your home is ever affected by a bushfire.

Overall, a colorbond roof is a great option for anyone looking to increase the value and function of their home. They are lightweight and highly durable, with a long lifespan of up to 70 years. They are also able to be installed in most types of buildings and have excellent spanning capabilities that allow for more column free floor area, so they can be the perfect addition to any home. With 22 colours to choose from, there’s sure to be a colorbond roof to suit your taste and match your existing building features.

[victoria-2022]

Color coated prepainted galvanized coil ppgi prepainted galvanized steel...

[mspsteels]

In the following article, you can get an overview of the manufacturing process, wide applications, and benefits of Corrugated Sheets. 

[treason-and-plot]

9.35 pm

"Oh, hello dear," says Nanette as Mia walks through the front door. She turns down the volume of the television, which had been trying to compete with the rain on the roof, as noisy as someone throwing pebbles onto a sheet of corrugated iron. "How did it go? Did you break things off with him?"

Mia makes a face.

"I just couldn't find the willpower, Ma," she says. "As soon as he gets close to me I'm just...helpless. Seriously, I'm wetter than a mermaid's minge! We were going for it non-stop for nearly three hours. And I couldn't break up with him afterwards because that would just be too scummy. Ugh. What am I going to do?"

"I don't understand," says Nanette. "You don't even like him. How can sex be so good with someone you don't even like?"

[soup-mother]

laminating corrugated iron sheets in my spare time

[bullet-prooflove]

Taken!Series Part Four: Meth Mountain - Angel Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @wakeama @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @emily2003alzaga @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @expir3dl0v3  @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @stressed-chas @@daydreaming-belle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @adaydreamaway08 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @crimeshowjunkie @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics

Taken!Series:

Part One: Mother - Tragedy strikes when Angel leaves you and Valeria alone for the evening.

Part Two: Bleeding Out - Angel returns home to discover what happened at the house.

Part Three: Touch & Go - Angel discovers where Valeria was taken.

It’s a clusterfuck.

Almost the worst-case scenario that Angel can think of because Meth Mountain, it’s a law unto itself. It’s a self-sustainable settlement, hosted and frequented by addicts and people on the fringes of society. It’s wild and unpredictable.

Bishop has managed to reach an accord with the local authorities. The police won't go up there but the M.C can, they won’t interfere with that so long as the M.C don’t bring trouble down the mountain. Nobody wants an infant on Meth Mountain, they all know it won’t end well.

The thought of Valeria being raised with a bunch of meth heads destroys Angel; he can’t imagine what Skye was thinking but then that’s the point isn’t it? Everything she has done up to this point has been impulsive, Skye doesn’t think ahead.

They split into two men teams, it’s easier to cover more ground that way, especially amongst the ramshackle dwellings. This early in the morning most of the addicts are out of it, too high to question why armed men in hoodies are slipping in and out of their dwellings.

Angel and EZ have just cleared their first assigned section when Angel hears the cries of his daughter. He would know that sound anywhere, it’s different this time though, rawer, more agonising. He knows every single one of the noises his child makes and this, this sounds anguished. It tears at him deep inside, clawing through his heart so the blood leaks out into his chest.

He looks to EZ, who tilts his head towards the next structure along. It’s barely more than a piece of corrugated iron with flowers painted on it and tarpaulin. EZ goes first, his gun peeking through the plastic sheeting that acts as a door, Angel follows up the rear, the sound of Valeria’s cries intensifying as he steps inside.

His gaze comes to rest upon the baby, his tiny daughter wrapped up in several bath towels, squared away in blue and white cardboard box that used to contain oranges. The diaper bag that Hank’s mom made has been left untouched alongside of it.

Angel lowers his weapon, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers before he steps into the mess, his boots crunching over the fast food wrappers. He reaches for Valeria, her face screwed up and red, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her nappy is heavy, and her tiny stomach rumbles loudly, he remembers you feeding Valeria before he left, he guesses she hasn’t eaten since then, almost six hours ago.

“Hey, hey.” He whispers as he clasps his daughter close, his lips brushing over her featherlight hair. “I got you, Daddy’s got you.”

He slings the diaper bag over his shoulder, before turning to face EZ. His brother indicates towards the bundle of clothes on the sofa. It takes him a second to realise it’s a person, slumped across the couch.

Skye…

She’s pale, her skin white with a blueish tinge, there’s a needle sticking out of her arm, a tourniquet tied just above it.

“She’s in rigour. She’s been dead for hours, looks like an OD. She probably put the needle in as soon as she got here.” EZ tells him, shaking his head before meeting Angel’s gaze. “What do you wanna do with her?”

Valeria’s already starting to settle, her sobs turning to whimpers as Angel sways gently, shushing her.

“Nothing.” He says, his palm smoothing over the baby’s back. “Let the natives have her.”

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[discount-shades]

Dead or Alive: Family

Dead or Alive: Sugar and Jake 

A/N: Someone asked if I was going to write about when Sugar told Jake she couldn’t have kids so here it is. It got away from me a bit…

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader 

Warning: Trigger Warning: Abortion, Fertility problems, Western themed violence. 

Word Count: 1200 ish

Summary: Some updates on Sugar and Jake after they leave the Dagger Gang.

Previous     Masterlist     Next  

Frozen, you stare at the sheets before you. A smear of blood blemishes the otherwise snowy white bed linens. Another month and you were not pregnant. Blinking back tears, you pull out the sanitary belt from where you had tucked it in the back of the drawer before dressing for the day. Your time of the month was only a few days late and as much as you fought against it, as much as you tried to squash it down, you had hoped that this time it would be different. 

Angrily you began to strip the bottom sheet off the bed. You had just put fresh linens on yesterday. Now you had to spend an hour washing and ironing it all again. You dump the sheet in the wash bin on the porch and begin filling it up from the pump by the back door. 

Jake had been away last night. He had spent the evening on guard duty at the local jail cell. You shake your head ruefully at the change in circumstances. Move a few states east and Jake would be the prisoner that needed guarding and not the deputy holding the keys. 

You will never forget the day that the sheriff had arrived at your door. Jake had volunteered to ride in a posse a month earlier and had helped apprehend a man accused of murdering a gold miner a few towns over. You weren't sure of the details, you only know that Jake had saved the sheriff's life. 

When you answered the door the sheriff had held up wanted posters with Jake’s and your real names without saying anything. As you stared into eyes the uncommonly accurate likeness of your own poster you had felt your stomach drop to the floorboards. You tore your eyes away and gazed at the blue sky and the California mountains towering over the small farm you and Jake had built. The dirt road trampled into the dirt led to the idyllic little town you had settled beside. Everything you had ever wanted was right here and you had brushed aside a tear, sure that the jig was up.

You clutched at Jake’s hand as the sheriff spoke. “Before these came in I was planning on asking if you wanted one of these officially.” He had held up a shiny, sliver deputy’s badge to Jake. “I did some thinking and the offer still stands for Mr. Smith.” He used the fake name the two of you had been living under. “Or I’ll allow Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and his wife one week to leave town, if that is your decision.”

He handed the badge to Jake. “If you want the job Mr Smith, I expect to see you tomorrow and I’ll read you in.” He passed you the posters. “If I do not see you tomorrow I will be back in a week to arrest the both of you.” With a final look that ensured that you and Jake understood his meaning, he tipped his hat and walked away.  

That was seven years ago now and the only thing that had changed was the sheriff was now talking about retiring and had been encouraging Jake to run for sheriff when he did. Your mind returns to the task at hand and you grab the soap and washboard and begin to scrub the stain on the corrugated washboard. Once the mark is as clean as you will get it you wring out the heavy sheet and hang it on the line. Maybe you won’t bother ironing it again. Jake won’t care and no one else would notice if your linens had wrinkles.

After milking the cow and collecting the eggs you head inside and start on breakfast. Jake should be home soon. You are just finishing breakfast when he canters up on the pinto horse he had taken to riding since retiring Jet. The old black gelding now spent his days teaching manners to weanling foals and napping in the shade. You turn to smile at Jake as he walks through the door but your lower lip begins to tremble when you see the look on his face.  He knows what the sheet hanging on the line means. 

Forcing an overly cheery greeting past your lips you turn back to the stove so you don’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes. “It’s scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast today.” You begin to plate the food, hoping that the familiar routine will calm your emotions.

Jake’s arms wrapping around you finally slows your movements and you lean back into his chest. “It’s never going to happen.” It is easier to speak the thought that has been sitting in your mind for years if you do not have to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know that.” His lips are soft as gently kisses your temple. “It might still happen.”

“No,” You sigh, finally ready to confess the secret you have been keeping from your husband. “It won’t.”

Turning in his arms you look up into his green eyes. “I was pregnant before.” You watch his eyes widen in shock but he doesn’t let you go, in fact he tightens his grip on your waist. “It was before us, I was barely 18.” You continue waiting for him to push you away.

“It was before the quickening, but it had recently been made illegal so a doctor wouldn’t do it.” You can’t read his expression and don’t know if you should continue but find that you are unable to stop. The secret has been eating at you for years. “I tried tansy, pennyroyal, gin, hot baths… but nothing would work, eventually the madam where I was working made it happen.” You brush a tear away and drop your gaze, unable to meet his eye anymore.

“There was an infection. A doctor did treat me for that, and he said I might never be able to get pregnant.” You watch Jake’s chest as he takes a deep breath and sighs it out before pulling you in for a hug. He gently cradles the back of your head as silent tears slip down your face. 

“So it will just be you and me then.” His chest rumbles under your ear at his words and you pull back to meet his eyes sniffing. 

“Are you ok with that?” You search his face as he smiles sadly down at you.

Jake gives a little shrug. “I can imagine my life without children.” He gently kisses your lips. “What I can’t imagine is a life without you, Sugar.”

“You would have been a great father.” You say thinking about seeing him interact with the local school children. 

“And you would have been a great mother.” You brush a tear away at his words but your heart feels lighter at his easy acceptance of your past. You no longer have to pretend that you are expecting to get pregnant. You no longer have to fake anticipation and hope that you have long given up on. 

“I guess it’s just the way it goes sometimes.” You are finally able to bring a small, sad smile to your lips. “Some things are not meant to be.”

[ctimenefic]

Canine teeth in the side of my neck for the WIP game 👀🍷

Hehe, so this is one of my runs at the @motorsport-halloween fest, and it's a take on a semi-mundane supernatural community, sort of in the vein of Being Human or WWDITS - like, it's a secret that vampires/werewolves/witches exist, but not a good secret. Alex becomes the new werewolf liaison for dealing with vampire and coven bureaucracy and learns the importance of proper documentation. Featuring Vampire!George and Witch!Charles and protracted negotiations on who, exactly, is allowed to bite whom. Also unicorns and me sassing various places in Oxfordshire, land of nightmares.

Snippet below cut because I could not snip succinctly!

It’s a Milton Keynes month, which means Alex can drag the farm’s Land Rover out of the barn to make the meeting. It’s a rollicking drive down country lanes too narrow for the speeds he hits, but he’s still amped up on full moon adrenaline, senses as sharp as his teeth. 

And he’s keen too - he’d actually gone through the notes George had sent, neatly typed and collated, and written his own questions in the margin about hunt rotations and who had precedent over what issues. There was a whole subsection to the terms on unicorns that he is 98% certain is a joke, so he’ll have to work out a way to ask without looking like a gullible fool, but even that feels fun. Since Seb went wandering, there’s been a chronic shortage of people to tease on the farm. 

The official meeting spot is a bleak and ancient industrial park just opposite an even bleaker abandoned train yard. Sheets of old corrugated iron creak in the wind, rusted out cars make the whole place reek like blood, and the deep cracks in the concrete look like black bile leaking from the hollowed out mouths of the gaping garages. On the one hand, it’s perfect – exactly the kind of place sensible humans looking to avoid horrible monsters would avoid. 

On the other hand, it’s full of teenagers drinking cider and fingering each other in spots that aren’t dark enough for Alex’s liking. The sweep of his headlights across the open chain link gates makes the most obvious couples scatter like rats, but he can still hear them.

George is hovering just outside the gates, looking deeply unhappy. Alex parks up and gives him a sympathetic look. 

“The smell?” he asks, and George shudders. 

“Whiteclaw on Lynx. Hideous.”

“We were all young once.”

George wrinkles his nose. “Not like that.”

Alex is prevented from discovering exactly what a young, alive George Russell was like by the back door of the Land Rover opening and someone helping themselves to the seat. “Can we go, please? The horny teens are giving me a headache. Too many orgasms.”

“Too much information! Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh,” the creature in the back seat says. “You’re not Seb. This is Seb’s car.”

“It’s my fucking car, weirdo, so-”

“Alex,” George cuts in, sliding into the passenger seat beside him, “may I have the dubious honour of introducing Charles Leclerc, leader and liaison of Oxfordshire’s finest coven? Charles, this is Alex, the new lycan liaison. You missed his first meeting,” he adds, a note of reproach in his voice that has Charles rolling his eyes.

Then Charles switches his attention to Alex, meeting his gaze in the rear view mirror, and Alex is abruptly pinned to his seat. There’s power in that look, power in Charles’s presence, the way he looks, a little too good to be true. With the wolf still close to the surface, it makes Alex feel trapped, wary. 

“Charles.” George’s voice hits a resonance, low and dark, that Alex hasn’t heard before. A moment passes, then Charles smiles, impish, and the heavy pressure in the Land Rover lifts away.

“Just checking! Where are we going that is away from the shagging?” he asks.

[dwellordream]

“By 1900, the domestic role of women was already beginning to reflect the long-term effects of social and technological changes that had been taking place since the Civil War. Most significantly, women’s marital and maternal roles were different from the ones that their grandmothers had experienced in 1850. Marriages themselves were not as permanent as they had been in the past. By 1900, the divorce rate had risen to one in twelve couples; by 1915 the rate was one in nine. Two-thirds of divorces were sought by women, a clear indication that a growing number of women were unwilling to accept unsatisfactory marriages and that, increasingly, they had the courage and the means to obtain their independence.

The proportion of women choosing never to marry at all had risen from 6 percent (where it had been throughout the 19th century) to 10 percent in the 1890s. Within this new group of women who never married were many educated professionals and others who felt that they could find satisfactory lives, work, and companionship without husbands and children. Among married white women of childbearing age, the birthrate had dropped 50 percent in the course of a century; it had gone from seven children for each woman in 1800 to three to four children in 1900. Among African-American women, the birth rate began to decline dramatically after 1900. By the 1920s about half of all married black women in northern cities were remaining childless, compared to only one-fourth of married white women. The birthrate of immigrant groups also decreased as they became more assimilated into American culture.

…As a rule, innovation happened more quickly in cities than in rural areas, and new technology was available to the well-to-do many years before it reached the homes of working people. Few of the new home utilities and labor-saving machines were ready for mass consumption before 1920. Between 1890 and 1920, for example, most American women were still washing household clothing and linen by hand in tubs with corrugated scrubbing boards. In a series of separate operations, each of which required fresh hot water, they boiled the clothes on the stove, rinsed them, blued the whites, and starched nearly everything except work clothes. Every item was wrung out through a hand-cranked roller mangle and hung to dry, outdoors or indoors, depending on the weather. The next day almost everything, including sheets, had to be ironed, using heavy flatirons that were heated on the stove and reheated as they cooled.

All but the wealthiest housewives did some laundry themselves, or assisted their domestic servants with the backbreaking labor. Any family who could afford it hired a laundress to come in by the day or take clothing to her own home to wash. By 1910, commercial steam laundries--staffed mostly by women workers--had become big business in cities and large towns, easing the chores of wash day for housewives. In later decades, automatic washing machines would return laundry to the home, making it, once again, the responsibility of the housewife.

…In 1900, nearly all American homes had cast-iron stoves, which had replaced fireplace cooking and heating in all but the most primitive houses. Stoves made cooking much easier and used fuel economically, and their temperature could be more or less controlled through the manipulation of a set of dampers. Many kitchen stoves had attached water-heating and storage reservoirs, which made dish washing and laundry easier than they had been in the days when all water had to be hauled and heated in kettles over the fire.

Most Americans used coal for heating and cooking, though families burned wood in parts of the country where trees were still abundant. Coal and wood smoke left a thin film of grime on furniture and windowsills and embedded itself in carpets and curtains, making housecleaning a repetitive and thankless task. Coal-fired furnaces and central heating systems, which burned more clearly than small stoves and had been available for decades, were still so expensive in the 1890s that they were found only in the urban homes of affluent people.

…Ironically, the opportunity to improve housekeeping with new sources of energy and new appliances would actually make housework more complex, multiplying some tasks while relieving the burdens of others. The presence in the home of hot running water meant washing and cleaning were easier, but also suggested the need to take more baths or to mop the floor more often. Washing machines made it possible to wash the same clothes more frequently than before. Easily regulated gas or electric ovens meant the housewife could attempt more elaborate cooking and baking than her mother had been able to produce in her day.

Despite its heavily advertised promises, the new domestic technology did not actually liberate women from housework. Rather, it served to intensify the personal importance of the home and the woman’s role in it by suggesting that her housework could be scientifically perfected. All the domestic experts and professional home economists promoted scientific housekeeping and the consumption of new appliances and energy sources. In magazines and books, on the lecture circuit, and in secondary schools, where domestic science became part of the required curriculum for girls, these authorities encouraged homemakers and potential homemakers to time their tasks, to break household jobs into segments, and to follow strict sanitary guidelines, especially in cleaning bathrooms and kitchens, potential sources of infectious disease.”

- Karen Manners Smith, “Women at Home.” in New Paths to Power: American Women, 1890-1920

[lisaplant4]

Reading Good Omens for the first time and am in literal tears with laughter:

"A lorry had shed its load all over the M6. According to its manifest the lorry had been filled with sheets of corrugated iron, although the two police patrolmen were having difficulty in accepting this. ‘So what I want to know is, where did all the fish come from?’ asked the sergeant. ‘I told you. They fell from the sky. One minute I’m driving along at sixty, next second, whap! a twelve-pound salmon smashes through the windscreen. So I pulls the wheel over, and I skidded on that,’ he pointed to the remains of a hammerhead shark under the lorry, ‘and ran into that.’ That was a thirty-foot-high heap of fish, of different shapes and sizes. ‘Have you been drinking, sir?’ asked the sergeant, less than hopefully. ‘’Course I haven’t been drinking, you great wazzock. You can see the fish, can’t you?’ On the top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back. The police constable was leaning into the police car, talking on the radio. ‘… corrugated iron and fish, blocking off the southbound M6 about half a mile north of junction ten. We’re going to have to close off the whole southbound carriageway. Yeah.’ The rain redoubled. A small trout, which had miraculously survived the fall, gamely began to swim towards Birmingham."

[arapuroy23-blog]

*Attn...........?%..Me, Ar Apu Roy(B.Arch) with my mother Smt Snehalata Roy(re:She expired on 11-09-2023), Standing at Side Entrance by its passage of our RESIDENCE-CUM-OFFICE, "ARCH DESIGNING STUDIO" (IND),were looking through the work, observing the progress of work with "TEMPORARY/SEMI-PERMANENT BOUNDARY" wall Construction of RCC Posts, Steel Rebar_ TORSTEEL&GALVANIZED IRON CORRUGATED SHEETS......<<<<FOUNDER, CEO&ARCHITECT, on behalf of "ARCH DESIGNING STUDIO" (IND)..... GSTIN:16AYSPR1667C1Z3....*

[rattlehead66]

haven't been on tumblr for years, haven't seen a point, haven't seen a point to much in a very long time, but there is something about the noises of being more inner city, hearing the rattle of the trams and the dinging of their bells, the general city noises.....that seem to kind of settle me. Even in this room with no window but only a mere non transparent skylight that lets in natural light but no sign of the outside world, making it feel kind of like a prison in a way and yet peaceful in another...when rain hits it it sounds like rain hitting a tin roof almost.....but this almost prison cell like room, the city noises I can hear but not see unless I sit out the front of the house, the little terrace only good for a washing line and the hot water heater, topped the barbed wire and rusting hastily bolted together sheets of corrugated iron as a fence, games like andy and leyley, class of 09, other stuff like that, this disconnect from the world around me grows, I shut myself out from the world a long time ago and yet I feel an ache for what could have been, the trajectory life could have taken, but now, now I think I am at peace with the disconnect, at peace with something that is simply existing until one day....I don't, gone without a trace, remembered by no one, forgotten by all, dust in the wind.....final absolute peace

[kley-blog]

This is pretty funny . . . but every word of it is true 😉.

Godsown . . . !!

AUSTRALIA AND AUSTRALIANS

"Australia is a very confusing place, taking up a large amount of the bottom half of the planet. It is recognisable from orbit because of many unusual features, including what at first looks like an enormous bite taken out of its southern edge; a wall of sheer cliffs which plunge into the girting sea.

Geologists assure us that this is simply an accident of geomorphology, but they still call it the "Great Australian Bight", proving that not only are they covering up a more frightening theory but they can't spell either.

The first of the confusing things about Australia is the status of the place. Where other landmasses and sovereign lands are classified as continent, island or country, Australia is considered all three.

Typically, it is unique in this.

The second confusing thing about Australia is the animals. They can be divided into three categories: Poisonous, Odd, and Sheep. It is true that of the 10 most poisonous arachnids on the planet, Australia has 9 of them. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that of the 9 most poisonous arachnids, Australia has all of them.

Any visitors should be careful to check inside boots (before putting them on), under toilet seats (before sitting down) and generally everywhere else.

A stick is very useful for this task.

The last confusing thing about Australia is the inhabitants.

A short history: Sometime around 40,000 years ago some people arrived in boats from the north. They ate all the available food, and a lot of them died.

The ones who survived learned respect for the balance of nature, man's proper place in the scheme of things, and spiders. They settled in and spent a lot of the intervening time making up strange stories. They also discovered a stick that kept coming back.

Then, around 200 years ago, Europeans arrived in boats from the north.

More accurately, European convicts were sent, with a few deranged people in charge. They tried to plant their crops in autumn (failing to take account of the reversal of the seasons), ate all their food, and a lot of them died.

About then the sheep arrived, and have been treasured ever since. It is interesting to note here that the Europeans always consider themselves vastly superior to any other race they encounter, since they can lie, cheat, steal and litigate (marks of a civilised culture they say), whereas all the Aboriginals can do is happily survive being left in the middle of a vast red-hot desert - equipped with a stick.

Eventually, the new lot of people stopped being Europeans on 'extended holiday' and became Australians. The changes are subtle, but deep, caused by the mind-stretching expanses of nothingness and eerie quiet, where a person can sit perfectly still and look deep inside themselves to the core of their essence, their reasons for being, and the necessity of checking inside their boots every morning for fatal surprises. They also picked up the most finely tuned sense of irony in the world, and the Aboriginal gift for making up stories. Be warned.

There is also the matter of the beaches. Australian beaches are simply the nicest and best in the world, although anyone actually venturing into the sea will have to contend with sharks, stinging jellyfish, stonefish (a fish which sits on the bottom of the sea, pretends to be a rock and has venomous barbs sticking out of its back that will kill just from the pain) and surfboarders. However, watching a beach sunset is worth the risk.

As a result of all this hardship, dirt, thirst and wombats, you would expect Australians to be a sour lot. Instead, they are genial, jolly, cheerful and always willing to share a kind word with a stranger. Faced with insurmountable odds and impossible problems, they smile disarmingly and look for a stick. Major engineering feats have been performed with sheets of corrugated iron, string and mud.

Alone of all the races on earth, they seem to be free from the 'Grass is greener on the other side of the fence' syndrome, and roundly proclaim that Australia is, in fact, the other side of that fence. They call the land "Oz" or "Godzone" (a verbal contraction of "God's Own Country"). The irritating thing about this is... they may be right.

TIPS TO SURVIVING AUSTRALIA

Don't ever put your hand down a hole for any reason - WHATSOEVER.

The beer is stronger than you think, regardless of how strong you think it is.

Always carry a stick.

Air-conditioning is imperative.

Do not attempt to use Australian slang unless you are a trained linguist and extremely good in a fist fight.

Wear thick socks.

Take good maps. Stopping to ask directions only works when there are people nearby.

If you leave the urban areas, carry several litres of water with you at all times, or you will die. And don't forget a stick.

Even in the most embellished stories told by Australians, there is always a core of truth that it is unwise to ignore.

HOW TO IDENTIFY AUSTRALIANS

They pronounce Melbourne as "Mel-bin".

They think it makes perfect sense to decorate highways with large fibreglass bananas, prawns and sheep.

They think "Woolloomooloo" is a perfectly reasonable name for a place, that "Wagga Wagga" can be abbreviated to "Wagga", but "Woy Woy" can't be called "Woy".

Their hamburgers will contain beetroot. Apparently it's a must-have.

How else do you get a stain on your shirt?

They don't think it's summer until the steering wheel is too hot to handle.

They believe that all train timetables are works of fiction.

And they all carry a stick.. 😊 🇦🇺

And snakes and crocs and big birds with claws 🤣"

–Douglas Adams

[justthisiguess]

The rusted corrugated iron sheet lining the walls

The smell of piss and beer

My feet stuck to the floor my head stuck on you

I’m home

[jobskenyaplace]

THE PROPOSED REMOVAL AND DISPOSAL OF ASBESTOS ROOFING COVER AND REPLACEMENT WITH PRE-PAINTED CORRUGATED IRON SHEETS TO VARIOUS BUILDINGS AT SIGALAGALA NATIONAL POLYTECHNIC

SIGALAGALA NATIONAL POLYTECHNIC TENDER OCTOBER 2024  INVITATION TO TENDER CONTRACT NUMBER SNP/OT/DARI/02/2024-2025 THE PROPOSED REMOVAL AND DISPOSAL OF ASBESTOS ROOFING COVER AND REPLACEMENT WITH PRE-PAINTED CORRUGATED IRON SHEETS TO VARIOUS BUILDINGS AT SIGALAGALA NATIONAL POLYTECHNIC PRETENDER SITE VISIT AND MEETING TUESDAY, 29TH OCTOBER, 2024 AT 10:00 A.M. TENDER CLOSING AND OPENING DATE…