#theozjeffbanks

The residents are into their own happy hour and are more than happy to be in for a chat. Apparently, they have been on the road for in excess of three years, in fact one of the group is coming up on four.

Whilst we are grateful for not only their knowledge of all things caravanning and their attention to the itinerary creation, it’s the itinerary that is now herding us rather than being the guide. This again stems from the need to be home at a certain time.

Screaming along at 100kph I see something in the middle of the road. I hit the brakes, its Busted bird standing right in front of us.

Back to the Cruiser and into another access road. Again there is a car park, again there is the turtle rookery plaque.

I muse on the radio I trust we did not create a Cary Loftin, the driver of the truck in the Denis Weaver movie Duel, and we will be into a death race with the truck shortly.

They ate it all, salmon and shark, plus salad. She waddles back to her van I suspect and will sleep well tonight.

Scrabble and I are not the best of friends, invariably other, better players, manipulate the board to gain the best scores.

I awaken to the smell of lamb chops cooking, have I slept all afternoon – no – Robyn has started on a braised chop stew for dinner.

What the events of the last three weeks have shown, beyond the best laid plans of mice and men is that the three “P’s” of life are just as required in our situation.

Just as Robyn returns, Silver Leader is into a large fish. He is using light gear as well and is playing the fish in the surf, much like I had to with mine.

He looks around, trying to refit the fan belt when all of a sudden, he changes his demeanour from, I can fix this quickly, to, I think you are in trouble.

Sitting down for a rest after the big session, Silver Leader pokes his head in and lets us know of some very bad news