The Trip to Brisbane.

We finally are going to Brisbane.
We will do this in our car with the foot-rest. It has been a sheer blessing practising this foot platform gadget. While in the past we would just jump in the car and go without a care or a plan, now it takes precise plotting and reconnoitring. My GPS has to be programmed, not a mean task for me. Each time I take a day off just to relax, build up courage, and charge the gadget before carefully programming it to the desired location.

And then there is the sorting of clothes and which items to take!

I do recognize the benefits of some gadgets, not least the simplicity and design of the cloth peg and paper clip, but electric things now are a world apart. Have you seen the latest vacuum cleaners? Some have cyclonic properties. Cyclonic properties? Should one look up the Bureau of Meteorology’s latest report before switching it on. Apart from that, those vacuum cleaners now intimidate just by its brutal design with all kinds of strange protuberances and additions. I feel, with the cyclone possibility and its looks, it might just take off to Mars by its own volition.

With planning stage for the Brisbane trip now well progressing, suitcases have been taken out and all bedding is covered with many clothes spread about like confetti at a Hawaiian wedding. I am being asked; “Does this suit me?” ” Oh yes, looks very young”. After a rapid withdrawal and a rustling noise, again; ” How about this outfit?” “Oh, very lovely it looks too, “I reply, still immersed in the mindboggling complications and multiple choices of setting GPS. It wants to know where I live. I thought the GPS would now this. If it doesn’t know my address, how will it know strange addresses hundreds of kilometres away?

As the days progressed, so did the excitement. “Should you book any motels, she said?” “I am not sure, can’t we just sleep anywhere” I blithely answered? “we are on holidays and we don’t have to catch the 6.30 am bus nr 401 to work, I added for sheer effect.” Remember when we just went, bought a tent along the way and slept next to the highway in the bush? I was warming to the subject of spontaneity and reckless high-way sleep-ins. “It was very romantic too then, I said .”

“Well, if you think I am going to sleep along the highway in a tent, forget it, I am not going.” She knows exactly how to stop any juvenile nonsense. “How does this look, do these shoes match my earrings?” “Yes, excellent choice, they will look very nice on Byron Bay beach.”

Remember we used to camp and take off with a 4 litre cask of Riesling and thongs? I again broached the subject of ‘just leaving on the spur of the moment.’ Yes, I do, and I never thought it was so romantic with flies, ticks and strange unwashed smells.

“Yes, but remember I would take out the surf board in the morning and ride the waves like any sun-kissed Apollo God of the surf?” “I wore a copper ankle brace with long hair that I used to get permed.” Remember?

No, I don’t. I looked up the Country Inn Hotel at Taree; go and book it!
Yes darling.