Left of field

With Gina Field, Nepean Regional Security

Hello, my fans and air-conditioners (we need them at the moment) I feel like I have moved to Vanuatu. 

So here we are in 2024; in the blink of an eye, the beloved 2023 has come, delivered, and gone (a little like an Uber driver with a Maccas order). Is it just me, or do people seem a little weird of late? The 2024 bonehead! 

I mean, people are driving cars like they stole them and are in a police chase; blinkers are an optional extra when purchasing a new car, and slamming on brakes for absolutely no reason is in the L plate training manual. Oh, and the pièce de résistance (we all love these): reversing into a spot and holding up 75 cars on a main arterial road is a must. Then catching as many car horns as the birds, looking as dumb as possible with the international facial sign of ‘I don’t give a rat’s ar$e’ is also a must. It is like ordering dessert after doing the Roman gorge at the all-you-can-eat buffet on tight Tuesday – 2 for 1 and kids eat free.

So here, I ponder my navel, as I have for many, many years. It’s getting old now, my navel that is, and even a Dyson vacuum cleaner can’t get the dirt and grime out. Yeah, I know; burn your eyes out with that vision. But I feel after 10-plus years now, you, my avid fans and readers, you are family. (awwww) . We can share this stuff. Wow, 10-plus years of writing mindless crap that really has no sense of purpose at all. Go figure; how good am I? Go me! I could enter into the Writer’s Guild competition/awards, and if I win, the announcer will say, ‘And the winner is Gina Field from Left of Field, for writing… ummmm… gulp,’ followed by an awkward silence, ‘for writing a column about boneheads!!!”  And then the crowd would go wild.

But realistically, what does 2024 mean for us? Are we churning the butter, like a mouse wheel? Kinda like the chocolate wheel at a bowling club on a Thursday morning (just after BINGO), or do we try something new and exciting, such as fluorescent Lycra and joining a gym class that is going to throw ya back out on the first grapevine and hip thrust?

Perhaps a new family pet, like a goldfish, and call it “Fin Diesel” (fish on steroids) Do fish actually pump weights? Asking for a friend! And how would they do it, also asking for a friend!. 

There are so many options out there for all of us, but figuring out what we want is the trialling part, isn’t it?

But as I finish off, I say this to you: here’s to 2024 and the Left of Field column. I assure you that I will have many stories of human behaviour and boneheads as I experience events, festivals, and merely walking down the street.

No one is safe.