I only told you half the story yesterday, when I recounted my idyllic weekend at Nookfest 2017.
I made it sound all lemonade and fairy bread but, of course, there were dramas.
There are ALWAYS dramas.
I am a drama magnet.
The dramas started around 6.30pm on Friday night (well, they started a bit before that, but I only became aware of them at that time) when I pulled over on the highway to check the directions to Nookfest.
DD had carefully sent me a couple of pages of very specific directions to Nookfest. But, for some unknown reason, I chose not to look at them until I’d turned onto the Federal Highway towards Canberra.
Nookfest is nowhere near either the Federal Highway or Canberra.
I have NO idea why I waited until the Federal Highway to confirm that. I had it in my head – from last year – that I needed to drive to the Maccas on the highway outside Goulburn, eat some kilojoule-laden evil for dinner, then make a left turn and hit the back roads to the festival.
There is no Maccas beside the highway outside Goulburn – it’s off the highway at the Big Merino.
I was supposed to turn off at Marulan Maccas. Marulan!
Anyways, I stayed (relatively) calm, backtracked, ate a revolting burger at the Big Merino (I strongly advise not ever ordering a Grand Angus Cheeseburger something or other) and set off through the countryside to Nookfest in the fading light.
Google Maps had a few issues with the roads on my instruction sheet (which only provided directions from Marulan, not Goulburn). It had never heard of most of them. I finally found one it HAD heard of and hooned off, only to be forced back by a closed bridge.
Then I hooned off again as the most magnificient sun set across the horizon and scared the bejesus out of me … Please don’t set, sun!
Eventually the tarred road cut out and we were driving in total darkness along winding dirt roads through the countryside.
Then our mobile phone signals died. The eldest helpfully pointed out that it felt like we were part of a horror movie storyline.
And then my car started flashing “Check tyre pressure! Check tyre pressure!”
Hoon. Hoon. Hoon.
And then my car started flashing “Stop! Stop! Puncture! Puncture!”
There was noooooo way I was getting out of the car in the pitch black to change a tyre. Not the least because – at that point – I didn’t know how to change a tyre.
Fortunately, we were only a few kilometres from Nookfest, so we puttered through the farm gates to a very worried DD.
The upside of being an hour late was that the tent was already up. Woo hoo!
The downside was that I was sleeping in a tent.
I hate sleeping in tents. It took an elephant tranquiliser to get me to sleep on Friday night. Four hours later I was awake again because my joints were aching so much from the dodgy air mattress (and old age) and because it was FARKING FREEZING and I only had a Kmart sleeping bag.
Tip: Kmart sleeping bags are pretend sleeping bags.
You probably already knew that.
But they are cheap.
(You get what you pay for.)
I’d have been warmer if we’d bought a double air mattress so I could snuggle up to DD, but we were on singles.
The next morning, DD started saying “hashtag International Women’s Day” a lot. Mainly while taking my filthy wheel off my filthy car and dragging it up to the homestead so Nookfest organiser DE (who already had enough to do) could have a go at fixing it.
DE, bless him, did manage to patch it. And DD got me to help put it back on.
There’s nothing like getting a flat tyre in the middle of woop woop in the dark with no mobile reception to bring home the fact that changing a tyre is a necessary skill to possess at age almost-50. So I tried to pay close attention. But I’ve spent an awful lot of time on social media over the past few years, so my attention span is much shorter than it used to be.
I think I have the general idea though.
There was also lots of “hashtag International Women’s Day” muttering as DD proceeded to barbecue bacon and eggs for brekkie on Saturday and Sunday mornings and burgers for dinner on Saturday night. He was quite incredulous that I didn’t know how to barbecue either, but was too tired to teach me.
Things went pretty smoothly from then on, until it was time to leave … and DD realised HE had a flat tyre. No biggie, except for the fact he was due to catch a plane to Singapore at 4.30pm … and time was getting VERY short because he had to drop two kids to completely opposite parts of Sydney on the way home.
As I hit the city limits with the eldest, I sent him a text message suggesting he swing by my place on his way to the airport so I could drop him off. He took me up on the offer and we made it to the check-in desk just 60 minutes before departure.
That wasn’t hairy AT ALL!
Er, yes it was.
Do you know how to change a tyre?
Song of the day: Phil Collins “I think I missed again”