At
last, the show is on the road ... I have finally left the building and made it
beyond the area where the neon turns to
wood.
The past few weeks have been an absolute nightmare (with one or two exceptions ... OK, about seven) getting rid of most of my worldly possessions (to my mind there were three non-essential essentials to make the trip - a peace sign, some Nepalese prayer flags and a piece of slate with the words "Happiness is not having what you want. It's about wanting what you have" ... with the exception of all my camping-related gear, a box of books and a goodly supply of skin care products. Yeah, really. Emptying a house of furniture, things I've collected over the years, a couple of thousand books, about 500 CDs, pots, pans, dinner sets, ornaments, tobacco tins (I had quite a lot), plants, didgeridoo and the mandatory partridge in a pear tree (OK, I reckon I must have had at least three) ... it was taxing in the extreme. There was, in the middle of all this stress, a forgettable folly, which was all my own making. It was a very hot Friday and I'd scent the day packing, worrying, packing, and then worrying some more. At about four o'clock I'd had enough of everything ... OK, except for some cans of bourbon and Coke. Normally I'd walk to the shops, but I decided to drive … well, I was rooted. There was bugger all parking, so I parked in a small side street and wandered to the bottle shop, made my purchase and then stopped to chat with my mate, Tony, from the hardware shop. We talked for about 20 minutes and then I walked home and the bourbon provided welcome relief from the day’s activities and I backed up with more wine than was enough with and after dinner. To say that I had a thick head in the morning was an understatement, not great preparation for the day ahead, which was to include the removal of two truckloads of furniture from the house. I opened the front door at about 7.30 and looked blankly at where my truck should have been parked. "Shit, the truck's been stolen" I said aloud. "Shit, shit, shit". Suddenly my already high stress levels peaked at a new, previously unheard of level. I was without a truck and I was two weeks away from hitting the road. And Jesus wept, I'd spent shitloads on it to get it just right for the trip.
Yeah, I reported it to the police, the insurance company (they gave me a ute to use for a couple of weeks) and told all and sundry to look out for it.
Long story short ... Tony from the hardware shop knocked on my door at 4pm and said: "Jump in my car. I've got something to show you." Yeah, it was the truck where I'd left it the previous day. Yeah, there was schadenfreude aplenty, even from the copper to whom I spoke to ask them to call off the chase.
Anyway, laugh a bit more here just to get it out of the way ...
The house emptied, thanks to my fabulous kids, all those friends who did their bit, the fabulous women at the local op shop, my ex (OK, one of 'em) and her husband (OK, one of 'em) and sundry others.
There were some wonderful memories unlocked along the way. I put together a small package for The One ... i.e. ticket stubs from the first time we went out. It was a Neil Sedaka dinner show at The Hilton in 1989. Then there were stubs for 1990s Midsummer Night's Dream in the Botanic Gardens, our night with Deepak Chopra ... included in the package was the towel I'd bought for her (see handy hints at the bottom of the page), which still had her mascara smudges on it. She was very pleased to receive that package, which included a letter explaining that "I still love her ... always have and always will."
It was the usual shit fight to load the camper trailer (aka My Joint) and the LandCruiser (aka Elsie ... LC ... get it?). Imagine reconciling and packing everything that you'll need for the rest of your life. Yeah it really was a shit fight.
And then there were the last-minute requests from the landlord to remove five pot plants I'd left in the backyard and to replace a slightly damaged in-floor central heating vent (I'd have thought that came under general wear and tear after living there for 15 years). Both requests came after I'd left town. Thankfully my son Liam was up for the task.
At this moment I'm about 30 metres from the ocean at the campground at Skenes Creek, I've got Cold Chisel playing, a beer in hand, plenty of tobacco and a fridge full of food. I'm pondering my new website (it's called Mickeypedia.com.au and will be the new home to this blog), which hopefully will be up and running in the next couple of weeks.
The past few weeks have been an absolute nightmare (with one or two exceptions ... OK, about seven) getting rid of most of my worldly possessions (to my mind there were three non-essential essentials to make the trip - a peace sign, some Nepalese prayer flags and a piece of slate with the words "Happiness is not having what you want. It's about wanting what you have" ... with the exception of all my camping-related gear, a box of books and a goodly supply of skin care products. Yeah, really. Emptying a house of furniture, things I've collected over the years, a couple of thousand books, about 500 CDs, pots, pans, dinner sets, ornaments, tobacco tins (I had quite a lot), plants, didgeridoo and the mandatory partridge in a pear tree (OK, I reckon I must have had at least three) ... it was taxing in the extreme. There was, in the middle of all this stress, a forgettable folly, which was all my own making. It was a very hot Friday and I'd scent the day packing, worrying, packing, and then worrying some more. At about four o'clock I'd had enough of everything ... OK, except for some cans of bourbon and Coke. Normally I'd walk to the shops, but I decided to drive … well, I was rooted. There was bugger all parking, so I parked in a small side street and wandered to the bottle shop, made my purchase and then stopped to chat with my mate, Tony, from the hardware shop. We talked for about 20 minutes and then I walked home and the bourbon provided welcome relief from the day’s activities and I backed up with more wine than was enough with and after dinner. To say that I had a thick head in the morning was an understatement, not great preparation for the day ahead, which was to include the removal of two truckloads of furniture from the house. I opened the front door at about 7.30 and looked blankly at where my truck should have been parked. "Shit, the truck's been stolen" I said aloud. "Shit, shit, shit". Suddenly my already high stress levels peaked at a new, previously unheard of level. I was without a truck and I was two weeks away from hitting the road. And Jesus wept, I'd spent shitloads on it to get it just right for the trip.
Yeah, I reported it to the police, the insurance company (they gave me a ute to use for a couple of weeks) and told all and sundry to look out for it.
Long story short ... Tony from the hardware shop knocked on my door at 4pm and said: "Jump in my car. I've got something to show you." Yeah, it was the truck where I'd left it the previous day. Yeah, there was schadenfreude aplenty, even from the copper to whom I spoke to ask them to call off the chase.
Anyway, laugh a bit more here just to get it out of the way ...
The house emptied, thanks to my fabulous kids, all those friends who did their bit, the fabulous women at the local op shop, my ex (OK, one of 'em) and her husband (OK, one of 'em) and sundry others.
There were some wonderful memories unlocked along the way. I put together a small package for The One ... i.e. ticket stubs from the first time we went out. It was a Neil Sedaka dinner show at The Hilton in 1989. Then there were stubs for 1990s Midsummer Night's Dream in the Botanic Gardens, our night with Deepak Chopra ... included in the package was the towel I'd bought for her (see handy hints at the bottom of the page), which still had her mascara smudges on it. She was very pleased to receive that package, which included a letter explaining that "I still love her ... always have and always will."
It was the usual shit fight to load the camper trailer (aka My Joint) and the LandCruiser (aka Elsie ... LC ... get it?). Imagine reconciling and packing everything that you'll need for the rest of your life. Yeah it really was a shit fight.
And then there were the last-minute requests from the landlord to remove five pot plants I'd left in the backyard and to replace a slightly damaged in-floor central heating vent (I'd have thought that came under general wear and tear after living there for 15 years). Both requests came after I'd left town. Thankfully my son Liam was up for the task.
At this moment I'm about 30 metres from the ocean at the campground at Skenes Creek, I've got Cold Chisel playing, a beer in hand, plenty of tobacco and a fridge full of food. I'm pondering my new website (it's called Mickeypedia.com.au and will be the new home to this blog), which hopefully will be up and running in the next couple of weeks.
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