Catherine Titasey drifted around the world until she was pulled in the current to Thursday Island for a brief visit. Fourteen years later, she's still there and writes and paints to stay sane from the stress and chaos of four children, two step-daughters, a fishing-obssesed husband and his two businesses she manages with no idea of what to do.

You’ve got to write a book," my mainland friends say when I regale them with TI Tales of the Unexpected.

"No one would believe it," I reply.

It started when I’d booked into the Jumula Dubbins Hostel for want of accommodation on TI (I was rescued, a second time, by my handsome prince three days later. It’s a long story and you wouldn’t believe it.)

Back in 1994 at the JD Hostel, for $189 a week, I got my own room and three meals a day. On my first day, I moved in line with the other guests at lunch. A scoop of rice was heaped into my bowl followed by – I didn’t believe it – a complete and utter fish head, floating in a pool of watery stock, its right eye staring at me.

I sat at my table in shock, not realising I was to eat the national meal of the Torres Strait – Fish Head Zura (soup). I was brought up to believe staring was bad manners. I couldn’t bring myself to eat something that behaved so badly.

I feigned illness and raced, weak with hunger, to Island Rooster for a snack pack of chicken and chips. It’s the Islander equivalent of KFC, only better and with a distinctly tropical flavour.

The sign warning not to swim or play on the water’s edge because of crocodiles stands above our favourite swimming spot, Front Beach. Of course, if you’re swimming or playing on the water’s edge, you can’t see the sign.

Tony used to own a taxi and one hot, sticky day, picked up a heavily pregnant woman. As they neared her destination, the hospital, she instructed him to drive around the island. After the lap, she again asked him to drive around the island. After several laps, when Tony was beginning to feel dizzy, he asked her what was going on.

"I need the airconditioning, brother. I got plenty money. Keep driving," she said. Tony replied, "E right, sissy. We go go the other direction now."

The local legal service accepted my offer to work as a volunteer lawyer one day per week. The day before starting, I sent off my application for a practising certificate by agreement with the practice manager. The day after working in the office with no fax, no phone, no photocopier, no petty cash and only one phone line, I can now claim the dubious honour of being the only solicitor to be sacked from a voluntary position. For not having a practising certificate – which arrived shortly after.

One early morning I was woken by a drunken brawl between two lovers outside my bedroom window. They traded unimaginative insults. Victory was assured for the man when he threatened to get his sisters to bash his lover. She replied, "I go mide you" meaning, to use sorcery to injure or kill him. Victory to her. Silence returned and I fell asleep.

It’s a little known secret that the Bamaga Courthouse offers premium accommodation to selected guests. In 2006, I was heading to Bamaga for monthly court but there was no accommodation. The first convoy of 4WDs up the Cape, waiting for the waters of Cyclones Larry and Monica to subside, had just got through and booked the place out.

The only option was "swags in the courthouse". It was perfect; free, selfcontained, safe (adjoining the police station) and silent. As the mother of four, Youngest Boy being nine months old, I had my first night of unbroken sleep in years. I gave it 10 stars.

Last year my son’s class travelled to the Gold Coast for the school camp. Two of the children were billeted with a wealthy family who lived in a palatial home. The mother had stocked up on every special treat, sparing no expense, and wanted to offer the boys something special on their last night. She asked them what they’d like, stressing that she’d make their favourite meals.

One of the boys asked her in complete innocence, "You got any turtle, miss?"

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