It hit me at 2am yesterday that I’d driven to Lennox Head with two people and their luggage in the car, but would be returning to Sydney with four people and their luggage.
And a pretty compact car at that.
It was a fairly fitful night’s sleep after that. On the plus side, I got to see the most glorious pink sunrise unfold over the sea while I lay in bed.
At 6.30am, I started shoehorning mountains of shite into the pretty compact car. It was a close-run thing, but I managed to pack the lot, with just enough space for people’s feet on the floor and barely enough room for their shoulders.
Geez it’s a long drive back from Lennox Head to Sydney. Especially when there’s very little room for your feet and shoulders and you have to drive straight past your house into the city in peak hour traffic to drop the eldest’s travel companion to Central Station.
I drove for almost 10 hours all up, with brief stops for drinks, food, petrol and toilets.
The eldest reckons it will be a loooooooong time before they get back in a car again. It will be a loooooong time before I get back in the car with the eldest.
I was shattered when I walked through the door at 6pm. (And very crabby … well, that’s my excuse for running a photo of one of the crustaceans the kids caught on our last night in Lennox.) But I grabbed a few shopping bags and headed to Woolies because the fridge was bare and I couldn’t eat another bite of takeaway food.
My fellow travellers voted for KFC for lunch in Nambucca Heads. I hadn’t had KFC for years, so the gourmand in me was quite excited, but it was soooooo not worth the calories. I wouldn’t mind getting my teeth – and waistline – into a Zinger burger every now and then if it gave me a mouth orgasm. But it didn’t. I just felt a bit queasy afterwards, especially when I tried one of the youngest’s chicken tenders, which had an unsettling chew to it like a piece of calamari.
As predicted, the kids were completely silent for most of the trip home. I forgot to put music on and just let my brain drift. It contemplated the townhouse by the sea it wants to build, what it would buy at Woolies when it got home, whether the holiday had been a complete disaster, whether it should ever book another family holiday, how excited the fur babies would be to see me … that sort of thing.
I also spent a lot of time silently cursed all the prongs on the road. My favourites were the ones who drove at 80km an hour when the highway was single lane, sped up to 110km an hour whenever there was an overtaking lane, then eased back to 80km an hour when it ended.
My second favourites were the prongs who’d madly overtake me when I was driving at 110km an hour, pull in front of my car and ease back to a gentle 108km an hour.
What the actual?
I slept fitfully again last night despite my exhaustion – I think I need a new mattress. My back is aching again after a week away in a proper bed.
But first I need to pay those bloody fines for driving an unregistered vehicle, which were waiting in my letterbox when I got home.
Oh, and because booze news waits for no woman, I’m working today. I have six stories to find and write and a newsletter to schedule for 6am on Friday morning.
I’d better get out of my crappy old bed and onto my crappy old computer chair.
Much love to everyone who headed to the dawn services this morning. Anzac Day always reminds me how much I miss my grandparents.
Song of the day: Simon & Garfunkel “The sound of silence”