Miles

It was time to move on today, so having risen early (you know the old saying "early to bed, early to rise"), we set off from Charleville around 8am. Filled the van up with diesel, then hit the road. A few kms out of town is a lovely little area called the rock pools. We ducked in there for a quick photo, with Tom lamenting that the road was unsealed and we were going to wreck our tyres, only to find that it was just about fifty metres off the main highway. (I didn't have to say anything. Hehehe.)

Soon enough we were off and continuing our trip to Miles. About one km down the road, I waved at a car, that was suspiciously like the one that Robert and Rosalita drove (those of the 30,000 acres). Sure enough, no sooner had I told Tom who I thought it was, and my phone began ringing. As I was driving, Tom answered and was able to practice his Tagalog on Rosalita. (Methinks we may have a stalker on our hands. She rang again in the afternoon too. Do do do do. Do do do do. Duh duh! In the best scary music. I mean, why would anyone want to befriend us? Hahaha.)

The trip to Miles was fairly ordinary and boring, apart from the times that we had to stop at red lights, it in the middle of nowhere, with nothing coming in the other direction.

That's when it got all fired up, with the husband invoking all sorts of hell on those flea-ridden sons of witches (I'm sure that's part of the diatribe that came spewing forth from his sainted mouth, but maybe I misheard. Perhaps it just sounded like witches! Hmmn, I'll ponder that for a second or two. Done! It may, just may have, started with a b, but the next words were ducking idiots, or some such thing!) Inside I was chuckling (no, not shuffling), but didn't dare show my wayward thoughts on my face. Oh no, that would never do! Hehehe. Not then, anyway. And not now, especially not now, when the football is on.

When I became the passenger, we drive past a sign that said "Injune". I would have liked to have gone and seen that place, but we couldn't. We weren't allowed to. We're only in May, and can't meet the selection criteria. (Well, you live with a leopard long enough... you do know that saying, don't you?)

On entering Miles today, the speed sign showed 60, then immediately under it was Miles. Didn't we convert to kilometres back when dinosaurs were pups? I could have sworn we did. Which got me to pondering, would we have a valid argument if we got caught doing 100kms that we were only obeying the road signs? What if I were American? Would that make a difference? The vagaries of life. Sigh!!!

A walk, and a wash (shower didn't have quite the same ring to it), then off to the pub for a counter meal. My lemon pepper calamari was delicious, and judging by the way Tom polished off his huge, dripping burger with the lot (and more!), so was his. As football was on (and he can't eat dessert immediately after finishing the meal), we got a couple of sticky date puddings, with scream (icecream) to go. And boy, it went!

The husband is now solidly cursing, tutting, sighing and generally not emitting any signs of pleasure, that methinks St Kilda are not performing as they should. (They're probably performing as expected, but still, it breaks his heart every single time!!!) Poor lad. Whoops. More tutting and tongue clicking!

Here come the sighs again, interspersed with some more ducks, so time for me to bury my head under a pillow and feign the state of sleep. I don't want to enter into any discussion about the merits or otherwise of those ducking idiots. (I wonder why they do that all the time? Duck!? Another one of the mysteries of the universe! We're dealing with all the big issues in the world here....) Night 🌙 night 🌙 😴 people. I'm off to the Land of Nod!Læs mere