Chrissie in Brissie with the rellies

One plane journey later we were in Queensland amongst the banana benders. Here we enjoyed living the life of luxury (we've noticed that the standards we consider luxury decrease in direct proportion with the increase in the amount of time spent slumming it in campsites/hostels) with Jools' brother and family. We enthusiastically adopted the roles of Auntie Julie and Auntie Kevin (hummph) to the "angelic" three-year-old twins Molly and Amelia. Hi girls - we know you're both avid blog readers!


It was great just to kick-back and relax (well as much as is possible with two mentalists (erm sorry, "angelic" little angels) running riot morning, noon and night) in a proper home for a couple of weeks. Cheers David and Roz.

It was a rather unusual experience to be wandering around on the 25th December wearing shorts with the temperature in the mid 30s. On Christmas day we journeyed to a big, posh, air-conditioned house, met at least 400 of David and Roz' relatives and ate puddings until we resembled puddings.


Cribbage Update: No time for cribbage when there are little angels to be entertained

Hitting the bitumen

Taking our sackful of dollars from 2 weeks hard graft in the vineyard, we loaded the esky(cool-box) and swags(tent) in the ute(hire car) and hit the bitumen (drove) out into the back o' Bourke (middle of nowhere) for 2 weeks.

It was a tough 2 weeks and we battled against a multitude of adversities:

Plagues of locusts - many of which met a mushy, grisly end on the grille of our Hyundai Getz.

The discomfort of sand between our toes as we strolled along mind-numbingly beautiful beaches, splashing gaily through the crystal clear surf.

Acceptance of the fact that(after one lesson at Margo Rivo) this would be the closest I'd come to 'getting up on a wave'.

Being forced to endure tastings in winerys with quite obviously dubious heritage.

Top spots were Pemberton - where we climbed a big tree (some of us more confidently than others), Kalgoorlie - a wild-west style gold mining town - where beers were served in the saloon by skimpies and we tried to find our fortune through gold panning- and Rottnest Island off the coast of Perth. Apparently Paul McCartney visited in the 70's or 80's and stated "it's the rotten-est island I've ever been on" - well he may be a lyrical genius but in this case he was talking codswallop. We hired a tandem for the day and embarked on a none too steady tour of the island. Beautiful white sandy beaches, enticing crystal clear waters perfect for snorkelling, friendly quokkas (marsupial kangaroo cousins) and us pair of malcos wobbling and weaving our way across the thankfully car-free roads. Even being stung by a jellyfish and spotting a shark -when we were just about to immerse our white-seal-like bodies in the ocean - couldn't destroy the magic.

Cribbage Update: Jools 22 Kev 18. nuff said.

Hard Yakka

Tiring of the dull, tedious monotony and endless hardships of travelling, we set up camp in the town of Margaret River for a fortnight. Margaret River (or Margo as the Aussies call it (actually I made that up)) is famous for its proximity to world class surf beaches and world class vineyards. Hence, therefore, thus, we spent a world class 2 weeks getting pissed and surfing - only joking(kind of). We actually spent our first afternoon in town touting our bodies around employment agencies and within a few hours were gainfully employed as 'trainee shoot thinners " in a local vineyard.

The gaffer at the vineyard was Al - a real Aussie man's man, clad in tackety work boots, short shorts, singlet, checked shirt, and sporting a fine mullet and a sprout of lower-lip bumfluff (a facial hairstyle much beloved by the Aussies). Al (ably assisted by his other half Val) was in charge of a group of 20 (or however many bothered to turn up on that day) work-shy travellers and local "characters". Those not in favour were affectionately referred to as "faaackin' cock 'eds".





As "shoot thinners" we toiled from 6am until 2.30pm (shock, horror - no flexitime) breaking unwanted shoots off the vines. It's an occupation not to be reccomended for hayfever sufferers, as I was forced to adopt the dayglo-bandit-look as modelled in the photo opposite.





















Cribbage Update: Cribbage? What's cribbage?