I'm a shocking collector of stuff but I've been trying not to accumulate too much stuff while living here. This has been made easier due to the tragic fact that apart from op shops (plentiful and not too bad) and one shop selling some nearly new furniture, there is not a single antique, bric-a-brac, collectible, junk, mid-century, retro, vintage or plain old secondhand shop in my new home town.
But I have been collecting something. The signs of a place tell a story and here are a few from my collection. Some of these signs perplex us, some amuse us and one saddens us that it even needs to exist. And in case you are wondering, no we haven't been to the restaurant above and yes we still have two children. Every time we drive past that sign those children shriek "Tastes like chicken!".
Mandurah has obviously had a plague of golfers at some stage as these signs are on every bit of public grass bigger than a doormat.
Sadly in this already dry area which has just recorded its driest winter on record, arsonists do exist. Last week some git set fires along the edge of a major road just south of here near Lake Clifton. The fire ripped through 2000 hectares of bushland, destroyed nine homes and killed countless domestic and wild animals.
A local business is offering an additional reward. Good on them for that and for giving me a new favourite phrase. Hopefully Lake Clifton residents will be able to rebuild their homes, restore their area and again enjoy living in a "lively hood".
And finally, when I fall off my perch, I want one of these below. Imagine a do where attendees crack funnies and everyone goes home with a sore face from all the chitchat and laughing. Irrepressibly chipper people will say "Well at least she went doing what she loved most", which in my case means I'll have carked it in a freak needlework accident.