When I woke Best Friend was over in his trundle-bed making these little whimpers; it was like a hungry puppy had been left under the sink. We were both up dressed and packed by eight; I was paid out for being thorough again (but who was the one who left a shoe in Taste).
Like a punch in the face, when we tried to walk outside, the wind hit and turned us both into Ken dolls. Like perfectly timed slapstick, we turned within three metres of the door and walked back inside; without saying a word. We even got the bell boys to pack the car for us. Very low and precious, but we were on vacation and didn't actually care.
With breakfast in, I think they cooked the spinach in butter for some reason (this will become important later; study the effects of gas under pressure in a confined space like in a plane), we braved the cold to reach our car. On the drive, both of us looked like we have been wrung out. Still both ideal specimens of Australian manhood; scruffy, unshaven, heavy glasses and hats to hide the mess. Incognito movie stars; without the STI's.
It was amazing to look back over the week; being completely relaxed. Work seemed like a makeshift dream and we were both craving the boredom of home. Having done Spring, Autumn and Winter breaks now, we are planning Summer next. Not sure where yet.
It was bitter-sweet to say goodbye; I seem to have a talent for making friends that are brilliant, and so they seem to spread their wings and end up all around the world. But I wouldn't give any of them up for anything. And in reality, it makes me better and more efficient to have a drive to travel as much as I can.
On the plane, I edited like a monster until my laptop was spent and craving power. As I shut the lid, the lady beside me asked about how much work I had gotten done. She was around 80 and travelling with her three best friends to stay on the Gold Coast. They all travel each year, or more-so time permitting. Her name was Jess Walker. I do not know whether she read some of the book and gleaned my plot, or she just picked it, but she then told me of her grandson and his friend; the cook and the banker, two males who moved to Brisbane, then back to Hobart again. She was very excited about the book and demanded details so she could tell to her friends if she ever saw it in the world.
Stepping off the plane, mum was at the entrance and scooped me away to the sisters for tea. The niece is exploding with language and has taken to feeding people who try to feed her. Her defiance is reaching the stuff of legend. She still has a way to go before becoming the equal of some of my antics; in my Mum's class the children demand my anecdotes as reward for good behaviour. It is very embarrassing for me to meet them sometimes. They know many of the details of my mischievous youth. Some of them are adults now. I know somebody will eventually come out with, 'oh you're the guy who got his penis caught in a jewellery box when you were two'.
Home again, I watched 'I am number four' as I cleaned all of my belongings from the trip and set my life back to normal. The only way to describe the feeling is OK God, I'm ready.
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