Now don't get me wrong, despite all my complaining I love this town in much the same way that New Yorkers love the Big Apple for reasons that no visitor can really understand.
And the wacky characters in Byron Bay are a big part of it.
My continuing beef is that you can be wacky and entertaining while still obeying the law.
For those in North America we drive on the left here in Australia, and as you can see in the photo this unicyclist is on the wrong side of the road while the white SUV in the distance is bearing down on him.
Also he isn't wearing a helmet, so quite frankly he deserves all he gets.
The other curiosity is the person on the far right of the picture.
What are they carrying?
I didn't really notice till I enlarged the photo on my computer, but it seems to be a wok.
A numbskull on a unicycle and a random wok carrier.
Only in Byron.
And so to other issues.
Most of my life I've worked for environmental causes of one sort or another and a common saying, no doubt familiar to many of you is 'think globally, act locally'.
I was doing some gardening at one of my client's places and there were weeds on the path.
I mused to myself, "I better spray those weeds".
I really don't like spraying, but some clients ask me to do it.
But then I thought it through a bit and said to myself, "don't be so lazy, you can do it".
So I got my weed sack and went over the path by hand and ten minutes later it was weed free (as can be seen in the pic above).
In my little world, in my little way I had been finally able to act locally to reduce the toxic load on the planet by a vanishingly small amount.
Likewise at home.
For those who don't know I live in a tent.
I am generally very happy there, I particularly love the quiet.
Sometimes in the afternoon, when my neighbour isn't mowing his lawn down to the bare soil, it is so quiet that the only noise is when the fridge engine kicks in.
When was the last time the only noise you heard was the fridge?
I think it is partly the serene silence that leads many animals to move in with me, a koala has a favourite tree of the end of my deck, and indeed some nights the loudest noise in my world is the damn Koala grunting outside.
I normally let him have his head unless The Simpsons is on, in which case I have to shine the torch on him to get him to shut up.
So this morning when I stepped into the bathroom and discovered a lizard in the shower, it was no real surprise.
This lizard and I have been cohabiting for a long time and he has regularly made me jump by running between my legs to cross the floor.
However I am glad he is there as he eats any cockroaches that try to move in.
Well, I don't have any cockroaches and I'm pretty sure it is due to the lizard's diligent pursuit.
The lizard couldn't escape due to the steeply sloping porcelain sides of my shower recess, but I was determined to get he or she back on cockroach patrol, so after five minutes of rodeo-like, slippery-sliding pursuit I finally got it onto my dustpan and back into a favourite spot behind my bathroom door.
Which leads me to another story of life in the undergrowth.
One night I was abed when I was awoken by the sound of footsteps in my little workshop area next to the bathroom.
I lay in bed thinking it over.
"Why is there someone walking around in my tent?", I mused.
I didn't think it was a burglar, who would want to rob me?
I then ran a brief mental checklist of friends who had mentioned they may come and visit, but no one was due at this time.
So what was going on?
Then the intruder turned on my electric jug and it began boiling.
So at that point I said "that's it. I don't mind you walking around but making a cup of tea before robbing the joint was taking things a little too far".
So I got out of bed, put on my boots and went to check things out.
It was a possum.
She likewise is a semi-regular tenant and in her wanderings had put her foot on the top of the jug and set it off.
I only wished I'd been present to see her jump as the lumpen foothold she had chosen suddenly glowed orange and began vibrating.
Anyway that was the only time I ever laid hands on her, as I scooped her up and returned the beast to her sleeping spot on the roof.
I might add, Possums have a human like ability to stare and she gave me a filthy look and hissed at me in a fashion that made me feel somehow guilty.
To which I responded to her, 'well don't make such a damn racket at three a.m and I won't have to relocate you in such a rough-handed manner".
So we both retired to our respective beds not on speaking or, in her case, hissing terms.