Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 94 - Echuca Day 2

Taking our time, not really wanting to put any pressure on the new mum, we rise and contemplate our navels a bit, then get a text from her saying everyone is up and happy and waiting for her great aunt to arrive. This throws us into a small panic as we are not, anything like ready. There are showers to be had, clothes to be determined, presents to find and wrap, food to re-bowl and packing the Cruiser.

The original plan was for a 9.30am brunch. At 10.00am we are just leaving the van park. Its warming up already, the gauge in the Cruiser is into the high twenties already. There is a debate about the best way to travel the, all of three kilometres, but I choose to stay away from the highways as much as possible and take a street that with traffic lights will take us straight across the main highway and to their street. Again, the GPS lets us down a little, as because of its age, it has not updated to the numbers in the street, because it is effectively a new development.

When we were here in January, Chris had just laid some new turf and we are eager to see how it is doing. Being a new development, there are only a smattering of houses, more than there were in January and each has a patch of grass, some well established and manicured, others well established and running wild, and others with just dirt. Chris’s grass is the most impressive in the street, manicured with a theodolite it would seem, hand cut by scissors by the look. To say it was immaculate would be an understatement.

Knocking on the door, there initially is no answer, then, knocking again, we get the “come on in” from the occupants. Barry, Robyn’s brother is nursing baby Sophie, with the grandfather doing a great job of comforting the newborn while mum, Mary and her mother get ready to brunch. Like all newborn, the amount of STUFF required to take them out in public, is way more than the actual tiny dot of humanity.

Off we go – 2 vehicles required, because the tiny dot and her extra bits are taking up most of Mary’s car. We are travelling with Barry in his Jeep and regale him of the issues the Jeep in our journey had incurred. He knows a bit because he has been following us on Facebook, but only we had broken down in Halls Creek and 80 Mile Beach. He actually had the audacity to ask why had a new Cruiser let us down, obviously did not read the posts very well, did he?

Mary takes us to one of her favourite coffee joints in Echuca for brunch. The young staff make sure we are in a place where we can manoeuvre easily, and we sit down and order. Its too hot for a hot drink, so Mary and I order milk shakes. Foodwise I order their signature breakfast and discuss the right way to make rock hard eggs with the waitress. She agrees, and she will ensure no yolk mess in my breakfast. I think she thinks I am mad, but each to their own.

Brunch is far too big a meal to need any lunch. Sophie is beginning to act up, so we pack everything back into the cars and head back to their house and “the fine trimmed lawn”. Sophie needs a bath and a feed, so we bid our farewells, after ensuring all the food we have brought is in her containers and either in the freezer or fridge for later on.

Back at the van we have work to do. It is the end of the month and the billing needs to be done. It takes a while because each invoice has to be individually written to match up to each assignment. While doing the billing I notice the internet access has fallen out. It has done this a few times in the past few days and on investigation, it comes up “Insert SIM Card”. With a SIM card in it, this is incongruent, so I suspect I have fried another SIM card, something I did on a regular basis while working.

What this means is a trip to the Telstra Shop and an argument about the card, not the replacement of it, but because of security reasons, and I am not on the account, they are initially unwilling to give me a blank SIM card. I explain to the assistant, the network is administered out of Melbourne office of MWL and all I need to do is get a new SIM, photograph it and send the picture to them and they will register it on the network. She does not believe me and sets off to the manager to check. She comes back sheepishly apologising her misunderstanding of the situation. All is good, I have a new SIM card and I have photographed it and sent it to the administration people. I should have the internet again tomorrow, all things being equal.

While we have demarcated the inside and outside chores, Robyn does like to assist with set up. One of the jobs she likes to do is to get the grey water hose out, affix it to the van and deal with the drainage of the grey water tank and open the valve to allow the water to escape. You may ask why I offer this piece of almost apparently useless information, but when there is an urgent nock on the door of the van (and we don’t really know anyone here), and the person is enquiring why we have a water stream coming out from under the van.

Robyn knows exactly why; she has forgotten to open the release valve. No problem, as soon as it is opened, water starts flooding down the pipe, or does once I cancel out the gravity issues of a rise in the pipe into the drain. All good, we can go back to our afternoon rest bites. This comes under the “One Job” list Silver Leader and Forbsy have been guilty of from time to time on the trip.

I am actually not sure a big dinner is in order tonight either, although Robyn is investigating Paddle Boat dinners, which cruise up and down the Murray from here. With the air-conditioning on, plus 35 degree temperatures outside, and a glass or two of that lovely Trentham Estates wines still in the fridge, I think we could quite easily eat in.

Bruce Parnaby, a cousin of mine, has been leading a charge to assist my aunt and uncle at Condobolin, after seeing a post on Facebook where she noted a lack of feed as a stressor leading to the sale of one of her beloved miniature horses. These ponies are tame, in fact Aunty Kerre often takes them to the local hospital and retirement villages to cheer up the residents. Our family on my mother’s side is big. A few years ago, we had a reunion, nicknamed Ferg Fest, for which I prepared a family tree eBook, which when completed suggested there were in the vicinity of 280 potential family members who could have come and well over 250 did. I say this because Aunty Kerre and Uncle Lionel opened up their property, Little Prairie, as is their want, for the Saturday night festivities (it was held over an Easter weekend), they often have Christmas lunches and reunions of lesser branches of the family there, being central and really the only place left in our home town big enough.

They have done a lot for the family, and as soon as people heard Bruce was looking to buy some hay for the horses, others wanted in. They bought 200 bales with the cash “donated”, and a lot of people are still yet to give and want to help.

Aunty Kerre is going to be pissed off at the gesture, and because Robyn and I are going to be there when the delivery occurs, I am sure we will get the blame. I have already warned those behind it, I will be dropping everyone else right into the poop as I duck the left and right hooks from my aunt. She is that sort of person, doesn’t have a real lot, but is happy to give, and hates to be on the receiving end.

Bruce would like videos of the delivery, which I am more than happy to do, and I can create a movie that we can circulate. It’s something I can certainly go to town with, given I have lots of pictures of my last visit of bare ground and empty dams to throw in. The forecast is for rain this weekend and if we can be there for that, we may even stay a day or two extra to help them celebrate. Hopefully there will be no naked farmer runs that require filming.

Before we go, we want to catch up with the new father, who finishes work after 4.00pm. When we arrive Chris is up to his arm pits in dinner preparations. Tonight, he is making Haloumi Burgers from a recipe board. The recipe is intricate, but he is attacking his task, with gusto. The result looks delectable.

While he was cooking, I arrange for glasses of champagne for all the girls, one from the Wise Winery, a pink one for a girl to stereotype everything incorrectly. Mary has only a little, but the older ladies go the whole hog, celebrating the birth with style. We don’t want to impose at dinner time, so we head off, with Kathy in tow, for dinner.

She wants to see the van, so we head there first and give her the royal tour. They are thinking of selling their acreage at Langwarrin and move closer to the city, to be closer to the grandchildren, but are still tossing the options around, she tells us.

With the tour over, dinner needs to be considered, a suitable venue found, and the evening repast devoured. We choose the local pub and settle in for some more than reasonable pub food. Robyn and Kathy going for the fish special, salmon fillets and I go for the schnitzels, washed down with a few drinks of course. The conversation about selling continues, as well as our experiences on the road, especially in relation to the Aboriginal issues and, of course, the antics of our daughter.

I break away as I a m yet to confirm the timing of the delivery of the hay to my aunt. Bruce, the instigator of this amazing family call to action, has handed delivery options over to one of Aunty Kerre’s children, Mitchell. Mitch is a wood carter and shearer, who ekes out a living on the land, without actually owning any. His wood carting business has generated him a good income over the winter, making his reliance on the shearing, less and less, which is good long term for his body.

Bruce is going to catch up with Mitch and confirm the delivery. There was rain forecast for Condobolin for the weekend and that might make things a little dicey, but Bruce notes the forecast has changed somewhat, and the chance of rain has fallen significantly. The farmers in Condo can’t seem to get a break. This will not add to Aunty Kerre’s demeanour once the hay is delivered.

My intention is to practice ducking for the next two days and wait until the gaggle of women from Orange arrive, hopefully at the same time as the hay, and simply take photographs and videos as Aunty Kerre tears strips off them. I will then potentially interview her for the Facebook post, and stick something up immediately, aiming to accumulate all the shots and videos into a quick video for distribution to all concerned.

But that is a job for another day. For now, its bedtime, as tomorrow we are off to Wodonga, probably by Campbells Winery, the home of the Robbie Burns Shiraz, my sister’s favourite wine. We may find ourselves dragged in there much like we were at Trentham Estates.

We will see.