No Gold No Cry – Thanks Bob

Last night I was down town in the Park Hotel, had a couple of drinks and a great fillet steak for 15 quid. I asked the bloke behind the bar if he could get me a taxi and a fat baston with tats said ‘no worries I’ll give you a lift’. He did and then I went round to his farm this morning to do some gold hunting on it. He’s my best mate now and his place is epic. Hello Murray!

This is his house.

His mate lost his leg in a motorbike accident and he got an artificial one. When he died he left it to Murray, who attached it back to a bike for old times sake.

Murray’s farm didn’t throw up any gold so I pushed off on to common land next door, which had lots of old gold workings on it.

It was another hot day and it was hard hammering away at the earth with my pick and carrying several litres of water on my back.

Again, over the course of another five hours I got no gold. Just iron, including a metal miner’s button.

Ah well. There’s always good food and a welcome Carlton Dry at the Park Hotel with my new mate Muzza.

Night night.