Note to self. Religion. Sex. Politics. Topics to avoid in polite company. To which I’d now add koalas. I’d mistakenly thought that a lethargic teddy bear, generally stoned out of its especially tiny mind, would be a safe bet. Wrong. Very.
I was spending a few nights with Mike, Mandy and Felicity on the outskirts of Brisbane, Queensland’s capital. Joined for dinner by their friends Kieran and Becs, and young daughter Caitlin. Mike had got in touch with me via the website, following my progress from China onwards. Invited me to stay. Making me very welcome. So much so, I’d left secretly kicking myself for not being able to spend a few more days there.
It all seemed to make sense at the time. Leading on nicely from hamsters. Explained I’d finally uncovered their evolutionary purpose. Simple really. Judging by the number we’d had when growing up, the little furry critters had clearly evolved to teach children about bereavement. In fact, there’d been so many we’d had to recycle names. My only regret the confusion that may arise in a few millennium. When archaeologists uncover the mass grave in the garden.
What, I asked, was the purpose of the koala? Explained I understood it slept about sixteen hours a day, and when actually awake was normally high on eucalyptus leaves. In the ensuing debate passions flowed. Found myself sympathizing with the bears, not least because much of the discourse when over my head. As it would have done theirs.
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