201 days…

Well, I did it.

I managed to pack us up, check the oil and water, pack the car and drive up here on that stinking bloody highway that I hate so much.

Almost unscathed except for the van with a death wish that sat up my tail as I desperately tried to change lanes at the stinking Redcliff deviation on the Gateway.

I hate dickheads with no patience.

It’s a funny little house we are staying in.

Not the lovely pole house we usually stay in … that would have been too painful.

Just this little house obviously owned by an elderly white male with a penchant for writing instructions and Turning Off The Bloody Hot Water System and leaving a little tiny note to alert tenants to the fact that they need to turn the bugger on within seconds of arriving if they expect any sort of hot shower in the evening.


It’s a bit depressing really.  It does not feel like holidays.

It feels like another way that you aren’t here and will never come back.

I miss you.

I love you.