The Road Trip - Chapter 3
Things you should know if you're ever fool enough to go on a camping holiday with 4 small children: sodden canvas tents are very very heavy. And very difficult to manhandle into a roof bag. Especially when it's still. bloody. raining.
Grrr.....
After that first damp night, we didn't have the energy to be making brekkie, so headed into town to find a cafe. After discovering that Wangaratta is in the seat held by Sophie "Petro Georgiou is a Political terrorist" Mirabella, I was keen to get the hell out of dodge, but my kids kinda needed feeding. There were no cafes open, so we had to settle for a good old sausage mcmuffin. mmmm. mcmuffins. Yet another of my fatal flaws...
Tummies full, and smiles restored, we hit the road again, heading for Melbourne...
... But we were soon diverted by signs to 'Glenrowan'. Being the history tragic that I am, it had to be done. Especially when I have a family connection to the whole Glenrowan/Ned Kelly saga. You see, the Station Master at Glenrowan, the big fat dibber dobber who ratted the Kelly Gang out to the fuzz... He and I share a quite distinctive surname. And there aren't many branches of the family... anyhoo, it had to be done - I had to pay tribute to that self-righteous and officious streak running through the bloodline.
If anyone's been to Glenrowan recently, I'm sure you'll agree it's a bit of a fizzer. There's some weird-arse sculptures hanging about, and a very bedraggled Ned Kelly reclining against a log, but that's about it. The station's pretty though, and seeing as that's all I wanted a photo of, I was relatively happy.
Miss M made the mistake of exclaiming "Oh! Ned Kelly! I know who he was - he was a hero!"..
Well! She won't be making that mistake again in a hurry! She will also be wondering for quite a while as to what Keneally and his wheelbarrow have to do with anything*.
We continued on our merry way towards Melbourne, commenting on the amazing roads - (see INC? This is what happens when you are from the Premier state - you can afford to be gracious and magnanimous...), when before we knew it, we were surrounded by Melbourne Drivers. We observed these curious creatures - noting their inability to indicate (yes, I realise this is common to all other states beside NSW - we learnt this the hard way), yet also their quaint reaction to one of their kind attempting to cross two (busy) lanes of traffic in order to join the (busy) lanes going in the opposite direction. That he decided the best way to achieve this was to just block both northbound lanes while he waited seemed complete MADNESS to us. That the air was not rich with the music of car horns and expletives was utterly inexplicable...
At lunchtime we happened upon the cottage of someone who isn't called Craig, and someone who actually isn't called Honeybear. It was a most delightful lunch, even if I was an appalling guest who took INC at his word when he said 'Don't bring anything' - I didn't have time to pick up any goodies, so stressed was I at actually getting there (fighting all those damn Melbourne drivers). No, that's a lie. I did bring something - I brought 4 children who proceeded to rampage through the house, intimidating INC's lovely delicate boys, and ransacking the rumpus room.
I can't take them anywhere.
We sat around the table, chatting and laughing like old friends - it was indeed delightful. And we didn't even do too much of that old Blogger-meet standby "Oh, your post on X was hilarious" etc etc. Mainly because neither MrB or Honeybear actually read our blogs, so had no idea what we were talking about. There was however a great deal of Baptist-joke trading - because that's what daggy Christians do when we get together. It's like the 11th Commandment.
And next time, I promise to bring wine and flowers and chocolates. I promise....
And also, I'll clean up after my children...
But in no time at all, we had to head off again - this time headed for Geelong. My second cousin lives there, and we were taking her out for tea. And also, camping. Obvs.
But... guess what? As we drove along the Freeway towards Geelong, the rain clouds started gathering again... And we had been hoping to let the tent kinda dry out... Oh well, Camping trips never go smoothly do they?
Next Stop: Somewhere between Melbourne and Robe.
*Which would be nothing really, he kinda got brought into the general rant. Just because, you know...?
Grrr.....
After that first damp night, we didn't have the energy to be making brekkie, so headed into town to find a cafe. After discovering that Wangaratta is in the seat held by Sophie "Petro Georgiou is a Political terrorist" Mirabella, I was keen to get the hell out of dodge, but my kids kinda needed feeding. There were no cafes open, so we had to settle for a good old sausage mcmuffin. mmmm. mcmuffins. Yet another of my fatal flaws...
Tummies full, and smiles restored, we hit the road again, heading for Melbourne...
... But we were soon diverted by signs to 'Glenrowan'. Being the history tragic that I am, it had to be done. Especially when I have a family connection to the whole Glenrowan/Ned Kelly saga. You see, the Station Master at Glenrowan, the big fat dibber dobber who ratted the Kelly Gang out to the fuzz... He and I share a quite distinctive surname. And there aren't many branches of the family... anyhoo, it had to be done - I had to pay tribute to that self-righteous and officious streak running through the bloodline.
If anyone's been to Glenrowan recently, I'm sure you'll agree it's a bit of a fizzer. There's some weird-arse sculptures hanging about, and a very bedraggled Ned Kelly reclining against a log, but that's about it. The station's pretty though, and seeing as that's all I wanted a photo of, I was relatively happy.
Miss M made the mistake of exclaiming "Oh! Ned Kelly! I know who he was - he was a hero!"..
Well! She won't be making that mistake again in a hurry! She will also be wondering for quite a while as to what Keneally and his wheelbarrow have to do with anything*.
We continued on our merry way towards Melbourne, commenting on the amazing roads - (see INC? This is what happens when you are from the Premier state - you can afford to be gracious and magnanimous...), when before we knew it, we were surrounded by Melbourne Drivers. We observed these curious creatures - noting their inability to indicate (yes, I realise this is common to all other states beside NSW - we learnt this the hard way), yet also their quaint reaction to one of their kind attempting to cross two (busy) lanes of traffic in order to join the (busy) lanes going in the opposite direction. That he decided the best way to achieve this was to just block both northbound lanes while he waited seemed complete MADNESS to us. That the air was not rich with the music of car horns and expletives was utterly inexplicable...
At lunchtime we happened upon the cottage of someone who isn't called Craig, and someone who actually isn't called Honeybear. It was a most delightful lunch, even if I was an appalling guest who took INC at his word when he said 'Don't bring anything' - I didn't have time to pick up any goodies, so stressed was I at actually getting there (fighting all those damn Melbourne drivers). No, that's a lie. I did bring something - I brought 4 children who proceeded to rampage through the house, intimidating INC's lovely delicate boys, and ransacking the rumpus room.
I can't take them anywhere.
We sat around the table, chatting and laughing like old friends - it was indeed delightful. And we didn't even do too much of that old Blogger-meet standby "Oh, your post on X was hilarious" etc etc. Mainly because neither MrB or Honeybear actually read our blogs, so had no idea what we were talking about. There was however a great deal of Baptist-joke trading - because that's what daggy Christians do when we get together. It's like the 11th Commandment.
And next time, I promise to bring wine and flowers and chocolates. I promise....
And also, I'll clean up after my children...
But in no time at all, we had to head off again - this time headed for Geelong. My second cousin lives there, and we were taking her out for tea. And also, camping. Obvs.
But... guess what? As we drove along the Freeway towards Geelong, the rain clouds started gathering again... And we had been hoping to let the tent kinda dry out... Oh well, Camping trips never go smoothly do they?
Next Stop: Somewhere between Melbourne and Robe.
*Which would be nothing really, he kinda got brought into the general rant. Just because, you know...?
Labels: The Road Trip
posted by actonb at 10:34 am
6 Comments:
"big fat dibber dobber"
hee hee.
Re TK - it's the beard, isn't it?
It's less about the beard, annoying and wankful though it is, and kinda more about the Irishness. The man is obsessed.
And - did you see what I did there, not giving away the secret location of your Den of Iniquity (and yummy ice-cream)?
omg he TOTALLY looks like a leprechaun. most annoying man that ever was.
bloody hell i hope it stops raining soon!
I'm glad you enjoyed the lunch. I must say that I deeply regretted having previously talked up my cooking skills on my blog, but you were most gracious guests so it was alright.
And it was fun to discover that Mr B is hilarious.
I should add that my boys were fine and enjoyed the visit, despite being a little bit overwhelmed at first (and in Cherub's case, having just woken up and being in the midst of teething and hence not his usual sociable self).
Bundle still remembers swinging with Miss H and he is no doubt looking forward to your next visit, as we all are.
Ha - yes, I see what you did there.
Although as INC has pointed out to me - the hints I've given away make it more than likely that anyone with a half-way decent knowledge of the geography of the southern half of the country has already figured it out.
That, and your reference to ice-cream.
Mex - he does too! Now I shall expect him to be dancing jigs and rubbing his hands gleefully when next I see him.
Re: The Rain - Oh! But think of the farmers!
INC - Cooking skills were awesomely in evidence - after all you didn't burn the sausages. I'm less in awe of your tomato-sauce-bottle-wielding skillz though...
Miss H is the natural friend of all small children. Unless said small children happen to be her younger sisters in which case she'll happily ignore them. She enjoyed the swinging too...
GW - Ah, but which ice-cream are we speaking of - could have been Homer Hudson for all the blogoverse knows!
Although INC's right - people who could be bothered have probably figured it out. People with a much better idea of Victorian geography than me, for instance...
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