One; Somewhere Quiet In The Suburbs

There is something about the term Sparrow's Fart that has always appealed to me.

Certainly having the last name Sparrow would have something to do with it, and no doubt being an Australian who enjoys vulgarity as much as the next bloke would play a part too.

For those of you that don't know, sparrow's fart, means early, as in 'up at sparrow's fart'.

So when I decided to keep a blog it seemed like the perfect title. Hopefully it doesn't tell you anything too detrimental about my opinion of blogs.

I've just moved into a new apartment. It's a nice enough place, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a good sized living room, decent kitchen, air-con, a sea-view, and most important of all, it's miles away from my old place, and nobody knows me here.

It didn't take me long to move in, on account of how I don't have any belongings. Well except the laptop, and a bag with the clothes I managed to stuff into it before climbing down the drainpipe from the second storey unit that until two days ago had been my home.

Fleeing for your life is an exhilarating experience let me tell you, though it does tend to leave you feeling paranoid. Even now, sitting on the floor in my empty apartment tapping away at the keyboard to stop myself from climbing the walls, I'm imagining them coming up the stairs to my front door, perhaps even looking though the spyglass at me, and preparing to kick down my new door, just as they kicked down my old door.

I know why they came for me.

Have you ever heard anybody say Australians will bet on anything, even two flies crawling across a table top.

You've haven't? Well you should get out more.

Anyway, I'm that Australian, I just can't help myself. And it's not even about the money, it's exciting, it's sexy, it's dangerous, there's nothing quite like it in the world.

Imagine putting everything you've got, your latest paycheque, next weeks rent, all of it on a horse, or better yet the toss of a coin, and watching, waiting, to see what happens next, knowing in the next few seconds you're either going to be jumping for joy or crying in your beer.

It is those few seconds that count, the adrenaline, the rush of it, it makes you feel more alive than at any other time in your life.

It is so exciting in fact, such a rush, that I have bet everything I ever owned, and more, and lost the lot. That's why I'm here, hiding from the people I owe money too, calling myself a stupid bastard and knowing I'll probably do it all again, and again, until one day, it finally gets me killed.

But then, knowing that is the biggest rush of all, waiting to see when that particular coin will hit the curb, and whether it'll show heads or tails.

Chapter Two