The nuts and bolts behind the nut who's bolting

I’ll be posting pictures tomorrow. It’s now beer o’clock and I can’t be bothered taking them today.

My truck, aka Elsie, has been a jig-saw of sorts in terms of getting it to a point where it’s cherry ripe to do all that’s asked of her during the trip and, given the places we’re considering having a crack at, that will be plenty.

First, she had to get new shoes (read tyres). I ordered some eight-inch Sunraysia wheels with a set of 17-inch B.F. Goodrich all-terrain tyres. I opted for BFG, given the strong recommendation of Jase, the host of TV show All 4 Adventure. They weren’t cheap ($2250 for five), but the service and staff at Bob Jane was excellent. The guys there told me I could expect at least 80,000 kilometres from the set. They also threw in a wheel balance after (I think) 22,000, no matter where I am.

So far, they haven’t had to do too much off-roading (that’ll change soon) but on the bitumen they stick like shit to a blanket … it’s a good feeling (OK sometimes not) to hit a curve faster than you should and still have confidence that you’ll come out the other end intact. Tick: tyres.

I also wanted to get a decent canopy, given that it was an aluminium tray, to keep my goodies (and sometimes me) out of the weather. I chased down a company at Carrum Downs, which specialises in canvas work. It took them three days to cover Elsie’s modesty with a canvas canopy that’s as thick as a British soccer hooligan, but far more useful. The seals to allow the roof rack to be fitted are double stitched leather and are tighter than a duck’s arse. Each side of the canopy can be opened in two sections (and rolled up) with really good, heavy duty zippers. Each side also has a window with bug screen. It all means easy access to the lockable tubs on each side of the tray and the fridge, which has its own power plug that runs from the second battery under the bonnet. That second battery only gets powered when the main starter battery is full, thanks to an isolator.

There are all sorts of goodies in the lockable tubs, pretty much all essentials. I have three tool boxes, a generator (back-up only if all else fails), a hand-cranked washing machine (think of it as exercise), fishing tackle bags, a bag with eight fishing reels, a gas powered hot-water service (with a pop-up shower tent), a HitchMaster pack (a very simple series of brackets that, when put together, give the lifting or pulling capacity of 32 pulleys, tyre repair kits, a compressor, a good axe, a couple of machetes, tarps … reckon I could go on a bit yet, but you get the picture. The tubs are full of “doing” and “fixing” things and then some. Tick: canopy.

The roof rack sits on a custom-made frame (yeah, it weighs a bit) and is permanent home to a high-lift jack, a shovel, my swag, a set of MaxTracks (just the thing for getting out of a boggy situation), a three-metre PVC tube, which holds all my fishing rods and my sling spear, and a couple of fold-up chairs. There’s room for plenty more stuff, but it’s better to keep the weight closer to the ground. Too much on top alters the centre of gravity and, in really dodgy terrain, enhances the chances of the truck falling over. Nuff said. Tick: roof rack.

Elsie also has a snorkel, a Toyota bulbar, driving lights, a UHF antenna (with an Aussie flag attached … it’s the bogan in me) and a winch that I just had overhauled, which included a new synthetic rope rather than the wire cable.

In the cabin, the seats are graced with custom-made canvas covers (yeah, you just hose them down if they get too shitty). In the dash, I have a Parrot multimedia station, which is my GPS, reversing camera, hands-free phone system, radio, music centre (phone and music are voice activated … i.e. tell it to play Neil Young and Crazy Horse or tell it to phone the ex and, presto, it does), Wi-Fi internet browser, email system … it probably does most things an iPhone will do. There are also four USB ports, so I can charge my phone, laptop, iPod and iPad while I’m travelling. The ashtray had to go to make way for the UHF radio so I can chat to son Liam when we are travelling in convoy … Rubber Duckie and all that shit … and I can also listen to the (usually) foul-mouthed truckers (yeah, that IS rhyming slang) and get a fix on what’s happening on the road.  Also on the floor of the cabin is a small cooler that holds eight cans of whatever or water bottles, so a cool drink is never out of the question. Tucked behind the seats are a few tools, a pair of leather work gloves, a fire extinguisher, a first-aid kit and some wet-weather gear. And the cabin is armed with an alarm. It’s cosy … the cabin not the alarm.

I also had the rear shockers replaced to give a fraction more lift and to ease the now-considerable load.

The last thing on the agenda is to get a DP diesel chip and new exhaust system. The chip is actually tuned to my truck, taking into account the weight it’s carrying, the weight that it’s towing, and its wheel size and tyre type. The manufacturer says that I’ll get up to 45 more horsepower for towing and up to 10 per cent better fuel economy, thanks to the chip and the cooling effect of the three-inch stainless steel exhaust system. Reckon, given that I’ve heard of up to $4 a litre for diesel being paid in the middle of nowhere, any boost in economy is welcomed. Since I’ve had the canopy on, the truck has displayed all the aerodynamic characteristics of Captain Cook’s cottage and probably needs all the help it can get.

That’s pretty much the nuts and bolts of the truck.

And then there is the trailer and its contents.

The Home is designed to go off-road (the suspension is shit hot), there’s plenty of storage, two water tanks (about 150 litres all up), one with 12-volt pump, the other with a manual pump, two deep-cycle batteries that are topped up as the truck is driving and then drip-fed (read powered) by a two-metre x .5-metre rubber solar panel. According to the electrician, the solar mat (you can drive over it, hit it with a hammer, whatever … it’s robust) delivers enough power to keep the batteries topped up for ever, well, as long as there is sunshine. When I move to a new site, I just roll it up and then start all over again. There are also two nine-kilo gas bottles, one always connected, the other as a spare. There is also a large toolbox on the front, which is home to oil, distilled water, assorted spray cans, lubricants (not the personal ones … they’re in my bathroom pack), a spare 12-volt water pump, fresh-water hose, a drainage hose (that connects to the sink), a bag of tent pegs and hammers, a bag of guy ropes and a bag of various ropes and tie-downs and other bits and pieces such as wheel chocks for the trailer. OK, there’s a shitload of stuff in there. Did I mention the cricket bat and ball?

The tent is a beauty … it’s about five metres long by 2.5 metres wide … and there is a five-metre by two-metre annexe. It takes about 10 minutes to unfold and erect the main tent … there are just two tent poles and a couple of guy ropes and it’s up. The annexe, on the other hand, takes the best part of 45 minutes or so (seven poles, lots of ropes and several long zippers involved to get it right).

The bed, a queen-sized inner-spring, sits on top of the trailer. It has a lamb’s wool mattress protector, good quality Egyptian cotton sheets and a goose down doona and two comfy pillows. There’s a window at each end (with terrific midge-proof mesh) to keep the air flowing.

To keep things tidy in the tent, there are a couple of hanging pods for things such as car keys, glasses, tissues, hair brush (yeah, like I ever use that) … whatever things need a spot so they don’t get lost. There are also two huge windows in the tent walls, which open out to create awnings.

Then there are the clothes. I have two small cupboards, each with three shelves and a larger one (four shelves) chock full of all the clothes I own. And yes, there is one shelf designated for singlets and another for lots of Crocs and the odd pair of boots, another for towels, bed sheets and the like. Then there is the dirty clothes basket, which, when empty, folds flat for easy storage, and a wire basket for all the odd bits and pieces that get used regularly.

Lighting is either a 12-volt LED strip (that lights up the joint like Broadway) of a more sombre (I call it mood-setting) 12-volt fluoro. I also use an environmentally friendly low-voltage globe when I’m connected to mains power. The lights have long enough cords to move out of the tent and into the annexe, depending on need. I also have a solar-powered (it has its own panel) night light at the entrance to the annexe, which is great for finding the joint after I’ve been out on the tear.

Under the bed (in the trailer proper), there are eight 50-litre containers and a long flat container for storage of food staples (read cans of stuff such as tuna, chick peas, beans, etc). The large containers are all labelled on their lids … it makes life easy when you’re trying to find shit, especially when beers have been the order of the afternoon. There are two for pots, pans and kitchen utensils, one for electrical stuff such as a small flat-screen TV, a DVD player, the top of the TV antenna, various leads, a 600-watt inverter (which turns 12 volts into 240 volts so I can use the stick blender in the kitchen), another container is full of plastic containers for pasta, rice, flour, breakfast cereal and the like, another with the leftover kitchen stuff such as a vacuum-pack machine and bags, a knife block, big bottles of olive oil, veg oil, jars of olives, anchovies, sun-dried tomatoes, whatever. Then there is the really important container, aka the grog bin, which has all sorts of goodies aboard. It doesn’t matter if you are a glass half full or glass half empty person. The bottom line is that in both cases, there is always room for more in the glass. Hence, I have two bottles of Pimm’s, one of gin, one XO cognac, two excellent single malt whiskies (one is Glenrothes 1991) and three bottles of wine, sealed in a temperature-sensitive container and packed tighter than a duck’s arse. They are a 2001 Peel Estate zinfandel, a 2004 Old Adam shiraz and … drum roll please … a 1990 Grange Hermitage. Spare a thought for me (and especially my liver) because I drank everything in my home wine cupboard with the exception of the three wines mentioned (and there were some absolute crackers in there). I’m very much looking forward to a remote campsite somewhere, a steak cooked over a fire and sharing the Grange (and the other two) with my son, Liam. I’ve even packed a really good decanter for the occasion. There’s also a container for other bits and pieces and another for essentials such as needles and threads, and odds and sods that at some stage we’ll need as well as one with personal stuff such as medicines, etc … and a bloody big first-aid kit. Liam’s kit even includes sutures although I hope neither of us needs to sew the other’s bits together. There is even room for the small step ladder (easy access to the bed … I’m tall, I can make it easily, but it’s, you know, for guests …). The only other mandatory thing is a small jerry can for when it’s cold at three in the morning and I need to pee … OK, it’s only to use when I’m staying at a paid campsite … in the bush, well, just point and pee.

In the annexe, the tailgate of the trailer folds out and becomes the kitchen, with a sink (with running water) and a three-burner gas stove, each with a glass splashback, and a fold-out bench. Under the sink and stove is a cupboard for the cutlery drawers, drawers for utensils, one for cleaning stuff and one for storage bags, plus storage on top for cups, plates, etc. The fridge, an 80-litre Waeco fridge/freezer looks after the food and sundry things such as milk, a couple of bottles of French Champagne, mixers (tonic, dry ginger, soda water and lemonade) and other stuff that needs refrigerating after being opened. There’s also a (I think it holds eight cans) 12-volt cooler and a fold-up but very efficient (it needs ice) beer fridge. There are also a couple of pods for bits and pieces (read shopping bags, magazines, books etc) and a hanging bug-proof and rodent-proof canvas pantry for bread and other bits and pieces.

The annexe, which has walls of midge-proof screen, also features a string of Nepalese prayer flags, a gift from my late best friend, Steve Walden. Did I mention there is also a peace sign hanging in the main tent? And, shit, I didn’t pack any incense.

Then I have to find room on the truck for my box of tricks … hunting knives, slingshot, two hand-held UHF radios, torches, fire-lighting flint and, of course, my survival pack … i.e. a backpack, which has a three-litre water bladder in it and a tube on the shoulder to drink from, a first-aid kit, spare knife, some kindling, a hand reel with plenty of fishing line and a few hooks, a torch, an aluminium blanket (it gets bloody cold if you get lost) and sundry other essentials should shit happen and I get lost in the bush. Then there’s got be room found for the camera case, a box filled with spare and replacement lights, a container of books, a couple of fishing nets, some crab/yabbie nets … and, yeah, a walking stick. It’s kind of a sentimental favourite. I bought it at Lourdes in France in 1975.

Are you getting the idea that I have a lot of shit with me? You’d be right, but that’s what comes from packing up and selling life as I knew it and deciding to keep whatever will get me through the next however many years I spend on the road.

Anyway, that’s the nuts and bolts of the truck and the trailer and perhaps an insight into why it takes time to set up camp and probably even longer to pack up a camp.

That’s why, once the road trip is on in earnest, it’ll be a case of find a place we like and stay there … until we no longer like it. Nobody likes packing.

Just one for the road ... so far

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 beast is gearing up for a trip

The car is in probably better shape than its owner (a week of shitty flu will do that) as the countdown to the big trip looms ever closer.

My LandCruiser is looking like an absolute beast right now … new Sunraysia rims with all-terrain BF Goodrich feet, a new canvas canopy (under which I can sleep should the need arise), a new heavy-duty roof rack (on which I can sleep should the need arise) with a high-lift jack and shovel bolted to the side, an alarm system (when it goes off I could not sleep), a new multimedia system that is a GPS, a music system (I have 25,000 songs on my iPod), a hands-free phone system, a net surfer, email system, two USB ports … OK, it does everything but make a cup of tea.

I’ve also added to the collection of must-haves: MaxTracks for getting out of boggy situations, a hand-cranked washing machine (ya gotta have clean undies), a CryoVac machine to keep food fresh for longer, a hot-water system and shower tent (no point being dirty if you’re putting on clean undies), the list goes on. And talking of lists, I’m in the throes of making one for what to pack … two columns per A4 page and I’ve filled three pages. Right down to toenail clippers (yeah, I’ve got a good knife, but you know, a little luxury goes a long way).

There’s (at this stage) just a couple more purchases to make … a recovery kit and an extra spare wheel. And I have plans to get a gun licence. No ulterior motive there … just something to be a safeguard should a big lizard (read saltwater croc) get frisky and too close for comfort. And, I guess, there’s always the possibility of hitting wildlife with the car (let’s hope not) and if it’s not dead, it would have to be put out of its misery. Other than that, should I break down in the middle of nowhere for an extended period and food is running short, then I’d take the gun shopping for some tucker.  

The biggest and best news is that my eldest son, Liam, is hitting the road with me. Given that he’s a builder, he’ll no doubt get plenty of work along the way. He’s working his arse off at the moment to get a stash of cash behind him so we can indulge in the good life on the road, and indulge we will. I’ve been working my way through the wine in the cupboard and have plans to take just a couple of bottles with us, one being a 1990 Grange Hermitage (which is listed at about 800 bucks a bottle in the cheapie wine shops), which will be about as indulgent as we can get. You get the picture … middle of nowhere, dinner cooked over a fire, nice glasses and a bottle of Grange. Bring it on.

NEW WEBSITE

I’ve just bought a domain name … mickeypedia.com.au … which will be the new home of this blog once I get the site designed and up and running. I’ve spoken to good mate Luke Buckmaster, Crikey’s resident film critic and web know it all (I mean that it a good way), and he’s agreed to do the work to get me up and running.

OUT AND ABOUT

I recently headed out to dinner with my friend Julia and some of her friends. Julia’s tall … she’s on the plus side of six feet tall and could hunt ducks with a garden rake … and a great foodie, a great cook for that matter. We nabbed tickets for a Greg Malouf dinner at the West Beach Bathers Pavilion on the bay … and not too far from home. It was labelled as a Middle Easter banquet and the menu included, on arrival:

Little cheesy pies with black Turkish chillies

Crunch oysters with green harissa

Sultan’s eggplant delight with brik shards (brik is a Tunisian dish consisting of thin warka pastry)

They were all washed down with a Turkish delight cocktail, a bit too sweet for me, so I made do with the bottle of Bell Amie pinot, one of quite a few that we cracked on the night.

Oh, and there was some camel racing on the beach. I had a good chat to my jockey, a girl who was aboard a camel for the first time. I told her that her mount was my preference. “What’s in it for me,” she asked.  I told her that if she won, I’d share a bottle of bubbles with her. “You’re on,” she said. Close, but no cigar. She came third (OK, there were just three camels racing).

Once the camels were done, we settled into our table of 11 and I was the only bloke … some would say a weed in a garden of roses. Then came the mains:

Quail wrapped in vine leaves with Lebanese-style white cabbage salad

King prawns in parmesan, egg and coriander batter

Burrata (which is a fresh Italian cheese made from mozzarella and cream. The outer shell is solid mozzarella while the inside contains mozzarella and cream, giving it an unusual, soft texture) with dukkah, baby beets and ox heart tomatoes

Roast, milk-fed lamb with oregano and lemon

Organic chickpea-pumpkin tagine with almond couscous

Whole salmon “Tarator style” walnuts, coriander and yoghurt tahini

Salad-e Shirazi with edible flowers

And then there were desserts.

Lemon curb baklava, orange Turkish delight and candied pinenuts

Watermelon, strawberries, rose syrup and pistachio halvah

Yeah, it was quite a feed although the absolute standout was the candied pinenuts followed closely by the company and the many bottles of pinot .

I got three offers of a place to crash, all near the beach on Mornington Peninsula, when I return to Melbourne. Good thing, that.

It was bloody freezing when we left the beach and Julia and I did the only sensible thing. We went back to my place and cracked a bottle of Moet. Yeah it was a good way to end the night.

TOP DROPS

I reckon, without question, the best thing to pass my lips recently was a bottle of Poet’s Corner Henry Lawson 1997 cab-sav from the wilds of Mudgee, closely followed by a 2010 Petaluma riesling, which had more body than Elle. Then there was a 2012 Sancerre Roc de l’Abbaye and a 2006 Blackets pinot from the Adelaide Hills.

LUNCH TAKES CENTRE STAGE

At the office, we’ve got a bit of a Tuesday tradition up and running.

We all, after consultation, bring home-cooked meals (sometimes we cook in the office) and have a big spread.

We had a curry day … lamb curry (my recipe is below), fish curry, veg curry, chicken curry by two, salads, naan, pappadams and sundry chutneys, pickles etc … the an Italian day, with Bianca’s fantastic meatballs, salads and Momma Lasagne’s (OK, it’s Anna) homemade cannelloni, Jane’s super home-baked haloumi bread and then a huge tray of tiramisu. We’ve also had an English lunch … (another) Jane’s shepherd’s pie, roast potatoes, veg of all sorts and a huge wine trifle with ice-cream. Yeah, Tuesday at the office is not doing anything good for anyone’s waistline.

BREKKIE AT BEN’S

Herbie Mills in Middle Park has become my new breakfast haunt … and with good reason. My friend Ben, the opera singer, is part-owner and a great host. My favourite is poached eggs, on multigrain toast, smoked salmon with a quenelle of horseradish cream and a tomato, cress and quinoa salad, washed down with English Breakfast tea (made with real leaves, not a teabag). I had breakfast there recently with a friend (she’s in the food industry) and she said it was one of the best brekkies she’d had.

High praise indeed.

Herbie also has live music on Sunday arvo, with a Mauritian-inspired menu and a decent wine list. There are also plans afoot to host an afternoon of opera. I’ll be there.

And speaking of high praise, someone said to me recently before we went out to breakfast: “You know what, Michael, for a man of your (ahem) advanced years, you have a beautiful bottom.” She was stroking it at the time. Who doesn’t enjoy a compliment every now and then? I know I do.

When fast-food becomes farce food

There are misnomers and there are misnomers.

This blog is a bit of a misnomer. Blogs, by nature, have regular contributions, so I’m led to believe. To those who read this regularly and dare I say it, expect something fresh to read occasionally, I apologise. I plead the time-poor argument. OK, that’s bullshit. I get easily distracted. I keep meaning to put pen to paper, alas, distractions prevail.

Anyway, as George Costanza would say, “Baby, I’m off my arse, I’m back for another crack”. OK, maybe not the arse bit, but you get the picture.

Now back to the misnomer bit.

I’ve been getting lots of things done to prepare my LandCruiser for the big trip, most recently getting an alarm system installed, which necessitated a trip again to the wilds of Moorabbin/East Bentleigh.

Given that I had to fill in three hours while the work was being done, and it was lunchtime, I made a beeline to the only food outlet (and, on my experience there, I use the term loosely) within walking distance, Hungry Jack’s, which is something that rarely happens.

Ah, Jack, what a contradiction you are, a misnomer, if you will.

There wasn’t a big crowd in … think about enough people to fill four, maybe five, phone boxes (do we still have them?)

I fitted in well, being one of a couple of blue singlet-wearing patrons, although we were outnumbered by tracksuit pants and Ugg boots. Oh, and there was a bloke with no shirt. I said g’day to a bloke who works at the place doing the work on my car and he dropped the first hint. “Get set for a wait,” he said.

I eyed the menu above the counter and settled for a premium (no, seriously, it says premium) tender crisp chicken burger/bacon/cheese meal and a large serve of onion rings … that is, I thought, a burger, fries, a drink and said rings. I ordered, clearly and concisely and paid. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. Then I waited some more. I said g’day to another bloke from the car shop. He, too, dropped a hint. “Get set for a wait.”

By the way, the company’s website describes said meal as: “The unbeatable combination of bacon, cheese and golden crispy chicken. Made with 100% chicken breast, premium eye bacon, ripe hand-cut tomato, fresh lettuce and creamy mayo on a tasty corn-dusted bun.” This is what it looks like on the web.

My wait had become 15 minutes during which time four disgruntled patrons returned things that weren’t what they had ordered. That’s right, about one every four minutes returned and replaced (eventually).

Finally, at the 20-minute mark, my order was mentioned by a rather harassed-looking young fella. I made my way to the counter and was greeted by a burger wrapped in paper with some handwritten ID (I assumed the CB indicated crispy bacon or perhaps it was code for crap burger. Yeah, that’d be it). It was a wrapper for another type of burger … obviously the stock of wrappers had gone the way of so many food orders. Alongside the burger was a bag of onion rings. That was it except for the empty drink cup. I should have burred up, and I really felt like I should, but I was at that stage where I just wanted the experience to end. I picked up the tray and then said, in a very polite voice, to a girl behind the counter: “Excuse me, but it’s called fast-food for a reason. A 20-minute wait is just unacceptable.” She said nothing and offered only what could best be described as a very hurt expression.

Another misnomer. I unwrapped the wrong-wrapper burger and looked for the bacon. No appearance, your worship. Wait, there it is. Any similarity between the premium chicken burger you’ll find on the company’s website and this one is purely accidental. This is what I was served.

As I was eating this thing (yeah, I was hungry), the bloke for the car shop came over, armed with his takeaway order. “I cracked the 30-minute wait,” he said.

I can only assume that the business was named Hungry Jack’s because, after you’ve place an order, you’re really, really hungry by the time you get it. And then it’s wrong, you return it and wait again, by which time you’re really, really, really hungry.  Fast-food … now that’s a real misnomer at this Hungry Jack’s.

I intended to forward this account to Hungry Jack’s head office and keep tabs on how long it took to get a reply. The company website rejected my attempt to send it because of, apparently, bad language …. I assume the word “crap” offended Jack’s spam filter. Sorry, Jack, but I refused to change it because it seemed an apt descriptor.   

RATINGS … WHATEVER THAT MEANS

I was watching telly the other night and as something was about to start, the ratings warning flashed onto the screen. “This program may contain bad language and sexual references.”

What does “may contain” mean?

Either it does or it doesn’t have offensive bits. It may also contain nuclear waste, crispy bacon, too much salt or corked wine, too, but they never tell you that. Get it right, will ya.

TO MARKET, TO MARKET

I was at the local market (there’s a surprise) the other day to stock up on some food bits and I made a beeline for the deli to grab, among other things, a slab of flat pancetta that was to be a mainstay of a pasta-dominated week.

The woman behind the counter, to whom I chat regularly, said after she’d got my goodies together: “Have you tried this new smoked speck? It’s Australian. I’ll cut you some.” I hadn’t tried it and she proceeded to whip off six good slices for which there was no charge.

I shared it over a glass of wine on my front verandah with my friend, Julia, the foodie. “It’s very good,” she said. God I love the South Melbourne Market.

Julia is a great friend, who said to me “I know you’re really going [the big trip] but you can always use my house as your Melbourne base whenever you come back. There’s plenty of room in my garage, too, if you need to store anything.” She’s a very good friend.

In a couple of weeks, we’re off to dinner for a spring carnival adventure under a big top on the St Kilda foreshore. The food is by Greg Malouf, which will be spectacular. Oh, and there’s also something called a Turkish Delight cocktail, doubtless some excellent wine and camel racing on the beach. Bring it on.

And speaking of wine/s, there has been a shitload pass my lips since I last deigned to write something here.

To go with the first pasta of the week, I chose the Deakin Estate viognier, a full-bodied beast that sits well with me. I bought a mixed case of six viognier with six Heathcote shiraz from the Wine Box Warehouse to be my quaffers. A good decision, that.

The pasta was a cracker. After dry-frying some pine nuts, I cut the pancetta into lardons and pan-fried it until it was crisp. There was plenty of tasty fat as a result, which, with some extra virgin olive oil, finely chopped garlic and a splash of pasta water, would be the sauce. Then I shredded some silverbeet and tossed it in with the spaghetti for the last 60 seconds of the cooking process. I combined it all and the added a huge dollop of mascarpone and some cracked pepper. I ate and drank well.

It’s hard to keep tabs on just what has passed my lips of late.

My local Vintage Cellars has had a special for a while … two bottles of Paringa Estate pinot for 50 bucks, a great price given that its somewhere between $33-$38 a bottle. I’ve bought two lots. There may be more. OK, there will be more.

Also on the wine list of late at Chateau Mick:

·    ·   2010 Darling Park Chardonnay
·   2010 Chateau Tahbilk shiraz
·   2012 Sanguine Estate Progeny Shiraz
·   2011 Willow Creek Pinot (I prefer the 2010, which is an absolute cracker)
·   2009 M Chapoutier Domaine Touron Shiraz or Syrah
·   2011 Reserve Mont-Redon Cotes du Rhone
·   2011 Cosme Palacio Rioja
·   2011 Les Vignes De Bila-Haut
·   2012 Ingoldby Shiraz
·   A super beer called Hopi-Nator from Holgate
·   2011 Jean Reverdy La Reine Blanche Sancerre (amazing)
·   2010 Baileys of Glenrowan Petite Sirah
·   Caudillo Tempranillo (can’t remember the vintage
·   2009 Seppelt Chalambar Shiraz
·   2012 D’Angelo Lady Chardonnay
·   A Spanish white called Inedito Blanco
·   2012 Bourgogne Aligole
·   Vignoble Gibault Sauvignon
·   Dopmaine Charles Audoin  Bourgogne
·   Inedito Rioja
·   2011 Bourgogne Les Taupes Maison Dieu

·   I reckon there are some more that slipped through the cracks, but them’s the breaks … although the favourite pre-dinner pint of Campari and soda did have pride of place several times on the kitchen bench during cooking.

Like I said earlier, distractions are the main reason I don’t write here as often as I should. Pleasant distractions though.

And speaking of drinks, my son, Liam, said to me recently: “What about a couple of beers before dinner at the Albert Park Hotel. It’s a nice night and we can sit outside.”

We grabbed a table out the front of the pub (yeah, we both smoke) and he went inside and ordered two schooners of Carlton Draught. He came back $15 lighter in the pocket.

Yes. It was a nice night and we had two each, but 15 bucks?

I got home and told the pub on Twitter to shove it fair up its clacker. Two Carlton Draughts for $15. Jesus wept … and yes, he’s still crying over it.

NICE RACK

Roll on the weekend when I take the LandCruiser to have a canopy fitted, with supports for a roof rack, which I have ordered for a very good price, along with a high-lift jack and shovel kit. It’s a 4WD warehouse in Campbellfield and the prices there are fabulously cheap.

While I was in the area, I checked out Terry, the bloke who built my camper-trailer. I hadn’t seen him for three years. It was great to catch up and suss out where he’s going with his business, which, from what he said, it very well.

I mentioned that I have a small tear in the canvas and he kindly gave me a large piece to patch it. He’s a good man is Terry.

GETTING NAKED

I also took time out to go to a wine launch held in an art gallery near the office. It was a company called Naked Wines … and there were about a dozen and a half wines on taste.

After being stood up by my friend, Emily (she had work commitments), I wandered along and took in the tastes. I reckon I got a bit worried when I tasted what was supposed to be The Diamond Shiraz from Jen Pfeiffer in Rutherglen. “Sorry,” she said, “but we got the label wrong. It’s merlot.”

Out of all of them, I didn’t really find a wine that I would buy by choice. The finger-food was good though, especially the Peking Duck and the beef sliders.

Mornington ride ... pinot bound

If ever you were going to have a local, you'd want it to be like the Mornington Peninsula. What a perfect locale for a local ... and it lends itself to alliteration: peninsula, pinot, peace, perfect plentiful produce, pinot, pleasant people, pinot. You get the drift. Did I mention pinot?

As a getaway, it doesn't get a lot better ... not too far from the big smoke, but far enough to embrace all of the above and then some. And tasting the many wines on offer was a great portent of things to come for when the Mornington Peninsula Vignerons Association brought its best to Melbourne for the annual roadshow (more on that later). Oh, and a goodly dose of fresh air is a bonus. My trip for the weekend was as a guest of the association.

Your head spins (I imagine it's like being in The Exorcist) as you drive through the region ...  so many cellar doors, restaurants, produce outlets, great views ... you name it, it seems to be there ... OK, even the occasional glass blower. And, of course, beautiful greenery/scenery every which way you look.

My GPS is seemingly from another century (OK, it is), hence I got lost. I phoned Lindenderry at Red Hill, which was to be my home for the weekend, misdialled by a digit and connected with a local woman (it was the first time in a fair while that I'd connected in any way with a woman), who was only too happy to set me on the path to its door. It turns out that I was on the right track anyway, just a couple of hundred metres off course. What a pleasant woman.

I parked out the front of the impressive complex, wandered in and front office manager Damien greeted me like a long-lost brother and then gave me a rundown on all things Lindenderry before opening my gift of a bottle of 2008 Lindenderry Reserve Pinot. "You look as if you'd enjoy one of these," he said. What a treat, what a welcome. What a magnificent first drop for what was to be a weekend of magnificent drops.

The room was huge, beautifully furnished and finished. The view from the king-sized bed through the wall of windows looked out to the wilds of the estate (OK wilds is maybe overstating it), with water from a dam and a lake, home to seemingly a million croaking frogs (if you can have birdsong, then why not frogsong?) and assorted birdlife - including a couple of huge, white resident geese - breaking up the greenery. What a view.

I did the sensible thing (not) on the way to the peninsula when I stopped to get petrol. Given that I hadn't has a smoke for a couple of weeks, buying a pack and a lighter wasn't what I wanted to do, but I did anyway ... after all I would be on it a bit (OK a lot) for most of the weekend and I was sure that cravings would do their thing. Shit, I enjoyed the first one out on the balcony before it was time to get ready for dinner. 

And what better preparation for dinner than a soak in a really deep spa, its jets pounding away to relieve all the pent-up bodily anger that had manifested thanks to the abysmal snarls traffic getting out of Melbourne.

Suitably tubbed and scrubbed (and yeah, I put on a clean T-shirt), the Linden Tree Restaurant, under chef Phillip Edwards (he trained under Herman Schneider at Two Faces) beckoned and delivered in spades.

A shot glass of (nicely hot) sweet corn and basil soup got the tastebuds doing their thing. Then, a starter of  seared scallops, lobster tortellini, sautéed shitake and enoki mushrooms, asparagus, tarragon and mushroom veloute, enjoyed while sitting with Damien (he was my dinner companion for the night given that I couldn't find anyone to accompany me for the weekend) alongside a gorgeous open fire was a cracker. Mains upped the ante: oven-roasted Flinders Island lamb rump, cooked to pink, moist perfection and served with stinging nettle and pea puree, confit potatoes and shallots and some sautéed green beans on the side. A glass or two of shiraz helped the cause, not that the meal needed any help.

After dinner, I did the sensible thing and retired to my room, put on the footy on the TV, and finished the most-excellent Lindenderry Reserve Pinot. It certainly helped the cause in terms of a good, no great, night's sleep.

I don't reckon there are too many better ways of starting a day than on the balcony with a good cup of tea, a smoke and the aforementioned birdlife, frogsong, beautiful views and fresh air.

Brekkie beckoned at about nine, so I headed for the restaurant and tucked in to the buffet ... a fruit platter,  bacon, eggs and some super-tasting mushrooms, toast and a pot of tea was a great before hitting the road to Montalto, where I was due to be tasting at 10am.

For a change, the GPS got it right and pretty soon I was parking the car at the magnificent Montalto vineyard.

The view down the hill, across hectares of vines, lawns dotted with all sorts of sculptures to the wetlands was worth the price of admission.

The vegetable garden, when it's in full flight must be a sight to behold ... it was in a winter sort of hiatus and still looked spectacular, not to mention supplying goodies of all sorts for the menu.

I made myself known to Justin behind the bar and launched into a tasting of eight or so of the winery's finest, including a couple of single-vineyard chardonnays ... who said chardy's best days were past it? Elevenses took on a meaning of its own with the Eleven series chardonnays ... winemaker Simon Black’s summation: “Pale straw with green hues. Lemon, lime, tangerine and grapefruit combine with floral and mineral notes by way of slate and flint. Creamy aromas fuse with hints of almond, anise and oyster shell. There is subtle oak influence by way of coffee and hazelnuts with hints of struck match. The palate has a tight citrus focus balanced with some white stone fruits including nectarine. There is remarkable tension here and a long and focused palate with good mid-palate structure and oak tannins. Creamy mouth feel from both oak handling and lees influence adds richness through to the long nutty finish.” Me, I would have said “bloody fantastic”.

And just for the record, given that I was driving and that it went against the grain, I spat.

Justin explained that during the warmer weather, the vineyard packed hampers for guests to picnic down in the wetlands. That's certainly on my agenda before I depart the state.

I had a packed agenda for the weekend, courtesy of PR woman Betsy Pie, so pretty soon I was back on the road, bound for Willow Creek where the chardonnay, courtesy of diminutive and talented winemaker Geraldine McFaul,  took centre stage (it was a starring role) for lunch at the splendid, view-endowed Salix Restaurant, with the equally splendid Karina, the Willow Creek marketing manager. 

Weight gain for the weekend was always on the agenda given my food intake. Pan-fried veal, mushrooms, artichoke and a side of potatoes with rainbow chard was sufficient to sustain me before Karina's tour of the inner workings of Willow Creek, including the special tasting room and the mega-impressive barrel room.

She's a great woman (also a friend of Julia, my friend from down that way).

During lunch we solved a few of the world's problems and got on like a house on fire. It was too soon time to hit the road again, but not before Karina gave me a bottle of chardy and a bottle of pinot gris to enjoy back at home.

Fortunately, my agenda had a few hours of R&R before my next dinner date, so an afternoon nap beckoned ... it worked.

Pretty soon, I was back in the spa, armed with a glass of pinot, and relaxing post-nap, before I put on my glad rags and greeted my chauffeur for the night.

If you’re in the area and tasting, it can be made so much easier if you have a designated driver. In my case when I had to travel for dinner, it was Chris Gregory, of Your Shuttle. She’s a local and loves the area. “Everyone should visit here at least four times a year,” she said in reference to the seasons.

She is a splendid woman, who arrived on time and spirited me to Paringa Estate, home of some of the area's best pinots (its restaurant got its first hat in The Age Good Food Guide a couple of weeks after I visited) for dinner with the owner and winemaker, Lindsay McCall.

Lindsay makes some of the world’s best pinots (ask cricket great Ian Botham if you’re in doubt. Beefy’s a regular customer). He (McCall, not Botham) was a great dinner companion. Great and dinner go hand in hand here: chef Julian Hills (ex-Courthouse Hotel, North Melbourne) is to food what McCall is to winemaking. It was a new menu and triumphant. Lindsay started with wallaby, me a soufflé.  So far, so (so) good. For mains, Lindsay ordered the rare-cooked wagyu; I went for the hare compilation (hare four different ways. Who would create hare baklava?). It was ably assisted by the Paringa Estate Single Vineyard pinot. At meal’s end, I said (without a hint of pissing in Lindsay’s pocket), “that’s the best meal I’ve eaten. Ever”. 

We enjoyed our way through a couple more glasses of the super pinot (dessert was never going to happen) while we indulged our passion for all things cricket. All too soon, it was time to be collected by Chris, who would get me home, safe and sound. She did. It was still a reasonable hour (from memory about 11) so a couple more glasses of pre-sleep pinot seemed like a good idea. It was a great way to ease out of the day before the need for sleep won.

The next morning ritual was the same as the one before ... cuppa, smoke and view time on the balcony before the brekkie buffet, a shower and packing, ready to hit the road bound for Darling Park Winery for some more early-morning tasting. I bade Damien a fond farewell (he was a wonderful advertisement for Lindenderry), banged my destination into the GPS, pointed the ute in the right direction and gunned it.

As I walked towards the tasting room at Darling Park, it was with some trepidation as I got to the door. I met winemaker Judy Gifford and I said to her: "I'm not too sure my body is up to a 10am tasting. I don't usually drink this early (OK, not often)." I'm sure she's heard it a million times before, but she smiled and after introducing me to all the staff, she eased me into it, explaining the finer points of each wine as we went (and, believe me, there are many fine points). Judy is a very special person, one with whom I really felt connected. She has five adopted daughters, runs a vineyard and is the chief winemaker to boot, so she has pretty full days, not that you'd notice. She's amazingly pleasant, friendly and has a great sense of humour. Her wines – 2011 Rose, 2010 pinot, 2011 reserve pinot, 2012 shiraz, Cane-Cut Late Harvest Pinot Gris, 2011 sauvignon blanc, 2012 pinot gris, Olivarni Single-Vineyard Pinot, reserve chardonnay and Hercules Chardonnay – they were very, very good, especially the 2010 pinot, a wine for which I'd leave home. Think spice and plum on the nose, Morello cherries, a touch of oak and fine tannins. Judy says it’s drinking well now but will evolve beautifully in the bottle until 2018. Although I was doing the right thing and spitting, there was no way the 2010 pinot was heading for the spittoon. Swallow, man, swallow. It was simply too good to spit. 

All too soon, it was again time to hit the road, sadly, given that I had an appointment to share a plate of cheese (thankfully no wine ... never thought I'd ever utter those words) with Red Hill Cheese cheese maker Trevor Brandon. Judy walked me to the car to farewell me, I promised to return, and I was off.

The cheese place was down a really pretty dirt track (bravo GPS) and soon I was chatting all things cheese with Trevor, figuring out which cheese went with which wine and the like. I sat with him and tasted 10 delicious cheeses. Try the buttery Granny’s Blue or the fetta, which I’d almost leave home for. Trevor has forgotten more about cheese than most people will ever know.

Trevor’s cheeses are crackers (ha ha) and, given the throng of tourists wandering around the place, very popular. I'd happily have sat there all day, but, alas, PR woman Betsy's itinerary had one final stop for the day on my agenda ... Port Phillip Estate for lunch (like I needed anything to eat). The cheese stop ticked all the boxes, so it was then back to the GPS and time to punch in Port Phillip Estate to meet Kate, the PR woman there, have a bite and sample some of its pinot.

It's just down the road from Darling Park (the roads were getting somehow familiar by this time). It's a huge place and this lunchtime it was packed. I finally caught up with Kate and she took me on a tour of the accommodation. Magnificent adequately describes it. The views from the two-bedroom suite were to die for.

We made our way upstairs and Kate said: "What do you feel like for lunch?" A quick squiz at the menu and I opted for an antipasto plate with beautiful olive oil, some Calabrese sausage and some very good bread. Even the thought of wading through the antipasto was daunting, given the amount I'd eaten and sipped during the weekend. "The fried whitebait with aioli is terrific," she said. "Do you like whitebait." What's not to like about whitebait? "Sure," I said, "but it's thanks, but no thanks. I really couldn't eat it." Didn't seem to matter because she brought it anyway, along with a glass of Port Phillip's single-vineyard pinots (it's $75 a bottle), which made it all better again. "I'll catch up with you in about 30 minutes and give you a tour of the winery," she said. The wine was super, so too the food, which, despite tasting terrific, was a struggle. I nursed the glass of pinot for an hour while I waited for Kate to reappear. Every time I saw her she was flying hither and tither ... there was a huge crowd in. Finally, it was time to put the cue in the rack. She was obviously too busy to get back to me (I understood) and I finally caught her attention and told her I had another appointment and couldn't wait any longer (OK, it was a white lie) and that I had to go. She understood. I thanked her for lunch and punched home into the GPS ... I was done.

I headed for the sanctuary of Chateau Mick, well satisfied and then some that I'd had one very, very special weekend. I'd eaten extremely well, tasted some magnificent wines (I spat far too much for my liking, but that's what you've gotta do when you're driving and you're responsible) and met some very special people.

The Mornington Peninsula is indeed in very good hands.    

STAY AND EAT HERE

LINDENDERRY AT RED HILL

142 Arthurs Seat Road, Red Hill. 5989 2965

www.lancemore.com.au/lindenderry

Lunch

SALIX RESTAURANT at WILLOW CREEK VINEYARD

166 Balnarring Road, Merricks North.

5989 7448

Dinner   

EAT HERE

Paringa Estate Restaurant

44   Road, Red Hill South. 5989 2324

www.paringaestate.com

  

Taste here

MONTALTO

33 Red Hill-Shoreham Road, Red Hill South. 5989 8412. www.montalto.com.au

DARLING PARK WINERY

232 Red Hill Road, Red Hill. 5989 2324. www.darlingparkwinery.com.au

RED HILL CHEESE

Red Hill Cheese, 81 William Road, Red Hill. 5989 2035. www.redhillcheese.com.au

PORT PHILLIP ESTATE

263 Red Hill Road, Red Hill South. 5989 4444. http://www.portphillipestate.com.au

GET CIGS HERE

RED HILL GENERAL STORE

www.redhillgeneralstore.com

(They were in the process of closing up as I arrived hell bent on buying more cigarettes. Like, it seems, everyone on the peninsula, the woman was as cheery as all get out and only too happy to be helpful.)

SHOW BUSINESS

It didn’t take long for the wine roadshow to hit town … at Comme Restaurant in the city … and it was a bit like old home week.

I headed there with my friend, Emily (she drove and subsequently spat because she’s responsible), who was the tallest woman at the show  (the transvestite dressed in grey didn’t count). And I also caught up with PR woman Betsy for the first time. Great woman.

There were 20-odd wineries there and, for a pleasant change, there was no spitting involved on my part. So many great wines, so little time.

It was great to catch up again with Lindsay from Paringa Estate and Judy from Darling Park to shoot the breeze. All the winemakers were on song and only too happy to speak of the virtues of their drops. And there were so many virtues.

In a couple of weeks, Em and I are heading to another wine launch, this time Naked Wines, which is putting several winemakers front and centre. The great thing is it’s about a 10-minute walk from the office.

THE BEAUT UTE

Life on the road is looming fast (there’s so much to do) and my LandCruiser has had my full attention.

I had some new wheels and tyres fitted … it now looks like a beast.

I also got a multimedia station fitted in the dash … it’s a computer, sound system, phone system, GPS (at last a new one), DVD player, reversing camera  … it does everything except make coffee (although I haven’t yet read the manual. Maybe it makes coffee).

I’ve also booked it in in a couple of weeks to have a canopy fitted and a roof rack. Can’t wait.

THAT’S TATT

Regular readers will know that I don’t visit the supermarket very often, but last week was one of those times.

It was a gorgeous day in terms of weather, so after I’d put the shopping away, I thought “what the hell should I do now?”.

Bugger it, I thought, I’m gonna get another tattoo, so I went to see Simon at my nearest parlour. He wasn’t bust, so after a while looked through his books of designs, I settled on some Sanskrit characters that say: “One life, one chance”.

Plenty of pinot on the menu

Next weekend I’m off to the Mornington Peninsula to do some fine dining and wine tasting.

I’m not sure where I’m staying (although I think it’ll be two venues) or where I’m eating but I do know there will be plenty of  wine tasting to do. I’m just waiting on the PR woman to put together my itinerary and get back to me.

The trip is a precursor to the Mornington Peninsula wine show (I think it focuses on pinot) coming to Melbourne in September and I have to write a yarn for it.

It made me smile when the PR woman asked whether I’d be bringing a partner … me and a partner? Nah, that ship sailed long ago. Still it was nice to be asked.

NEW VENUE
Breakfast has taken a turn for the better at weekends. My good mate Ben has bought a share in a café not too far from my house (OK, it’s a five-minute drive).
It’s called Herbie Mills and it’s at 36 Mills Street, Middle Park.
The food is bloody good. The scrambled eggs on toast are as good as it gets matched to some thick, hand-cut bacon. For a change yesterday I had tea rather than coffee. They actually use real loose-leaf tea.
I had just poured a cup when my good friend Tiff lobbed and gave me a hug. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. She hosts a sports radio show, among other things. “I’m taking acting lessons,” she said, “I may head to LA for a year to see how it goes.” If anyone can crack it, Tiff can. She worked on TV in the States for a bit over a year and has done shitloads of TV work here.
We’re planning a farewell dinner – either she’ll be heading off and I definitely will be.
Just as I finished breakfast I got a second hug – it was one of Liam’s exes – it was a bit of a struggle because she’s a bit of a head case. I was relieved she didn’t hang around.

ON THE MENU
It’s been a good time for food and wine recently … Liam spends more time in the kitchen than I do … and that’s a good thing.He tends to cook things that I never think of, like a couple of nights ago when we had pork and stir-fried vegies with noodles. Bloody good thing it was.
I had a crack the other night and that crack turned into a cracker. I’d bought some smoked ocean trout at the market the day before and I thought I’d have a go at some pasta.
I headed to the new deli/fresh produce shop around the corner from home – it was my first time there – to grab some ingredients. Mascarpone, fresh dill, asparagus and an avocado were the order of the day. The place isn’t cheap (I know how much rent they pay. I had a glass or two with the developer who built the place) but the produce is good. A case of you get what you pay for.
I blanched the asparagus for about 90 seconds and then mixed it and the dill through the mascarpone, to which I’d added a splash of the pasta water. The (perfect) avocado went into the penne at the last minute with the chunks of smoked ocean trout. It should be on the menu at my place at least once a week. The picture is a sample of the vino that's made its way onto the home menu. The E. Guigal Cotes du Rhone, for me, was the standout in terms of taste and value. And the fact that Liam is not drinking wine is a bonus. I get it all.

NO MATCHES, JUST PATCHES

Son Liam and I decided five days ago that we should give up the smokes. He’s a bit like me in that regard … goes through so, so many.

It really shocked me when he said: “I’m 33 years old, but I’ve been smoking for 20 years.”

We wandered up to road to see Martin, the chemist, and each grabbed a two-week pack of patches. So far, so good. We’re both enjoying not smoking.

ONE CAR ALMOST GONE

There have been about 700 views of my Subaru Forester on the carsales website. Several have been in touch and taken it for a spin. Reckon it’ll be sold before the week is out. Then it will be time to sell the LandCruiser ute.

Liam is thrilled to the back teeth with his new HiLux ute. He has taken it for a (about 2500 kilometres) spin this weekend. I’ve had a drive of his … gotta get one soon.