Thursday, 7 November 2013
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE WORLD'S LEAST LIKELY FINE WINE REP . . . . SELLING LIVER DAMAGE AND DEBAUCHERY TO THE PEOPLE OF SOUTH EAST QUEENSLAND . . . . AND CATCHING UP WITH OLD MATES LIVING THE DREAM ON THEIR OWN TERMS . . . . CHRIS 'PHANTOM' GARRETT, SURFER, SHAPER, SOUL BROTHER, RECLUSE, SELF SUSTAINER, THINKER AND ONE-OFF UNIT.
FILE THIS ONE UNDER "THIS IS PARADISE . . . . WELCOME TO THE PHANTOM'S LAIR"
First met the Phantom twenty five years ago, he was shaping boards for the local surf community in the middle of the Goldy, we serviced his bike and we'd swap tales about bands and gigs, mates we had in common and the shit that pissed us off, great dude, grounded like a rock and quick as a very quick thing . . . . time moved on, things got tough and he decided to make the move to the hills south of the Coast, bought a block of land, built himself a home, a shaping/spraying/glassing shed, outdoor shitter, outdoor shower, veggie garden, chooks, recycling turds into brilliant fertilizer, nothing wasted, everything gained, including his soul . . . . living life on his terms and not motivated by the almighty dollar alone . . . . the Phantom says, 'always listen for the sound of jungle drums'.