I WAS at the newsagent at Bli Bli just scoping around for a last minute something for Poppy’s ninth birthday.

I wandered up and down the aisles just looking. As always my attention was drawn to the mag stand. I stood there reading the latest publications when suddenly my eyes fixed upon the hand-made sign in front of me.

It read: "This is not a library".

I felt I’d been busted. I glanced left and right then ever so quietly left the store.

Cheeses, it’s the dairy fairy

I met another Dunn Diary reader or should I say Dunn dairy reader.

For this purveyor of fine journalism introduced herself to me at the Coolum IGA right next to the yogurt. "Hi, Jamie," she said with a warm smile that matched her personality. "I just love your column in the Daily."

I responded sheepishly and put on my "I'm out of work until next year" look and asked her name.

"Oh me," she said, thrusting out her milky white hand. "I’m Megan, the dairy fairy."

Thank you for reading, Megan.

But shoes could cost a bit

The big question around Australian retail outlets this week is just what will all the recipients of Kevin Rudd’s hand-outs do with the money he's giving us for Christmas.

If you want to know the answer just do what I did and go shopping for a bargain at Gone Bonkers, Coolum Beach Esplanade.

According to Two Dollar Ted, and I quote, "They'll all be at Harvey Norman's blowing it on a dirty big flat screen."

In case you’re wondering what I bought from Gone Bonkers, it was a large iridescent green, soft rubber centipede for $2.50.

Now that’s what I call a bargain.

Ribit, Here's Freddo

Because of the unexpected 11 weeks holiday thrust upon me last week, the kids and I have spent this last week in the country.

Now I suppose country people take these three events in their stride but my city kids just screamed.

Scream number one: 17-year-old Stella was admiring a stag horn when suddenly a baby green tree frog leapt on to her neck. She screamed like that woman in The Shining just after Jack Nicholson put his axe through the door and said, "Here’s Johnny".

Scream number two: 14-year-old Max and 11-year-old Jackson went for a stroll in the paddock to kick a ball around. I had just come out on to the verandah only to see Max running towards the house squealing like a fax machine. It seems the boys had wandered too close to those stealth bombers of the bird world - plovers. By the way Max was sprinting, with the birds in hot pursuit, you'd have to think that plovers can actually smell fear.

Scream number three: While driving along the long and winding dirt road that leads to the farmhouse, suddenly and without warning, 9-year-old Poppy screeched an ungodly scream, sort of like a banshee during an amputation. I skidded to a halt. Well, to tell the truth, I clutched my chest and then skidded to a halt, turning around expecting to see blood spurting from a major artery or something similar. But no. What had set her off was a huntsman spider the size of my fist slowly walking up her arm. Stella was a great help, she quickly got out of the car and ran away.

I think next time we’ll just go to the beach.

Tear along dotted line

Here's to the council workers who are doing the line marking on the new Maroochy square-about.

Now, I'm not saying that they are rushing a bit too much but as I approached from the south, between the new green bridge with the blue lights and the massive overpass, I noticed that the white line on the edge of the road went straight up and over a big piece of cardboard that was lying there. So there will be a little gap in the white lines once the wind blows the cardboard away.

Is it just me (sorry, Caroline) or am I the only one that is reminded of that Pepe Le Pew episode where the black cat accidentally gets a white stripe down the middle of his back the very same way.

Stranger things have happened.