How do we know summer is on its way?

Well, it’s simple. Mother Nature sends us a sign, and a pretty obvious one at that.

No, it wasn’t last weekend’s brilliant weather (but if this is global warming, I’m all for it).

It was when my eight-year-old Poppy and I were walking on the footpath near the Coolum shops, and barefoot Poppy froze as if she was nailed to the ground. As it turns out, she was.

She was standing right in the middle of a bindii patch.

I lifted her and extracted the embedded prickles and thought to myself ... every Queenslander knows that feeling.

We made it to the car and headed back home.

As we passed the Coolum Surf Club, I noticed a young mum with child in hand, her soles impaled on yet another cluster of the dreaded bindii.

Summer is coming.

Follow the dream

Have you ever had a dream, a life-long dream like opening a coffee shop, a second-hand shop or, as in my case, a bikini shop?

Well, I was wandering the streets of Peregian the other day and I came across a sign that read “Annie’s Books”. It was on a tiny little bookshop tucked away right opposite the surf club.

You’ll find Annie in there most days, following her passion which is obviously the written word.

I couldn’t help but think that this was her dream.

Alas, poor Fatso

Fatso the budgie is no more.

Well, it all started about a fortnight ago when the decision was made to put Fatso in the big Bali birdcage outside the front door.

Now Fatso the budgie is 11-year-old Jackson’s pet and no matter how often Jackson fed him and said the words “Who’s a pretty boy then”, Fatso never spoke. Not one word.

I can’t even put your minds at rest and say that Fatso died in his sleep.

Well, I guess you could say he kind of did – you see, a six-foot carpet snake prised open the bars and slid in during the night.

You can only imagine Fatso’s last moments of bird life.

I have it on good authority that just as Cyril the snake dislocated his bottom jaw in preparation for his budgie brunch, Fatso actually did speak for the first time.

I believe he said something like: “Oh s**t!”

Tears in my eyes

I had the absolute pleasure of being asked to MC the celebrations for Abilities Week at the House with No Steps in Doonan.

Truly, the people who surround the disabled are wonderful, caring, firm yet gentle carers, parents, guardians and friends.

There was an incredible performance of drama by some 15 or so intellectually impaired.

I sat there with tears in my eyes, watching young men and women trapped in bodies that do not respond to the commands given by the brain, act as birds, trees, rain and fire.

Believe me, it takes a lot to humble me, the great Jamie Dunn, but I sat there wondering what could have been for these people had not fate stepped in when they were born.

I was amazed to see in the percussion group performance people, who were unable to walk four straight steps but who could belt out a rhythm, right on the beat, right in time, with all the gusto of Phil Collins.

You were incredible.

Benzing the rules

I wanted to say something but I didn’t.

I had pulled into a vacant park next to a handicapped zone the other day when a retiree pulled into the heavily signed “Wheelchairs Only” space next to me.

He jumped out and ran across the road.

Why is it that absolutely all the people who steal these parks drive a Mercedes Benz?

Room with a view

There is a beautiful sight if you’re travelling south on the Sunshine Coast Motorway just before the Maroochydore bridge.

High in a dead tree, right next to the highway, a sea eagle’s nest has suddenly appeared.

I don’t know whether it’s the male or the female building the home, but thinking about it, I guess it’s the female because the husband has probably gone fishing.