So many wonderful memories and storiesto tell from our country sojourn. I thought I’d start with one of the last.
We were on our way home, the first half of the trip involving Grover expressing his sadness at leaving through anger and antagonism. Remember the first half was four hours. Good times.
The second half began with a rather large woman sporting a very bad (is there any other sort) perm and three teeth in her head (whose existence, going from their colour and angle, seemed tenuous at best) having a go at me for parking in a disabled spot. Look, we hardly need to use this facility in a Macca’s carpark but there were principles and indignation to share.
Then it was time for the part of our trip to take us over the Great Dividing Range, this portion known as The Blue Mountains because us Australians love nothing more than calling physical landmarks the bloody obvious.
By now it was rainy and the fog had set in. With Abba as the soundtrack, Death by a Thousand Questions as my front seat passenger, Jasper making specific song requests and Grover demanding Justin Beever instead, Felix chimed in – rather randomly – with what he was going to call this mythical dog he keeps talking about.
Grover chipped in, ‘well I’m going to get a cat and call it SLUT!’
And that, my friends, is an absolute done deal.