So. I go outside to remind the Hub what I look like and he’s walking toward me holding out a package. He says it’s for me. I panic. I haven’t bought anything, honest! I don’t know anyone here. WHY HAVE I GOT A PACKAGE!?! He puts it on the table but I can’t touch it. I’m pathetic. It’s just a standard postal parcel and it’s making me as anxious as all buggery. He opens it a little bit and tells me to open the rest. I can’t so he does. And what comes out is manna from heaven.
This, people, is what an Aussie care package looks like. 3 of the major food groups are represented here and it’s all stuff you can’t get here. Oh, you can get poor, sad, hollow imitations but they are a shadow of the real thing and so you don’t buy them because they mock you with each bite. Better to go without.
But now I don’t have to. Now I can make fairy bread!
And cheese and vegemite sandwiches! And vegemite on toast!
*sigh* My cup runneth over.
For those of you who are completely ignorant of the appropriate dosage of vegemite, I found this users’ guide for you:
The Hub was working in Australia for the first time and saw everyone hooking into the vegemite so he thought he’d try it. He thought it was like Nutella where you spread it good and thick. He was wrong. So very, very, screamingly funny wrong. I haven’t been able to get it near him since, even though I explain it’s really just like beer. Even the smell will make him shy away.
He has no taste although he was pretty bloody quick in dibbing a packet of Tim Tams. Bastard. If my giving up a packet of Tim Tams isn’t a demonstration of true love then I don’t know what is.
He’s going to take his packet to a mate’s where they’ll experiment with all the different ways of ruining a perfectly good Tim Tam in coffee. Idiots. I’m going to eat mine the way God and nature intended.