I once told someone that the best thing about caravanning is opening your door to a new view each morning. But it’s not only the view that is different. The air smells different, grass hay, the saltiness of the ocean or even cow manure. The atmosphere feels different, warmer, cooler or humid. It’s the sound of the birds (as I write this a caccophany of Currawong song is echoing above), the animals wandering  by. Even the angle of the sun warming my bum as I do the dishes. Every day is different. Advertisements Continue reading Moveable Scenery

I sit in the hairdresser’s chair at Emu Park, Qld having a discounted Senior’s trim before our next leg of the trip. It’s a gloriously sunny day outside. A young girl is tidying up the window display of haircare products when she asks “Is it common for a man to ride a horse up the main street?” The hairdresser laughs and replies “Was that a pun?” The young girl looks blank and I’m positively confused. Then the hairdresser explains that the riders name is Col Common and yes, he often rides his horse along the main street and up the … Continue reading A Common Mistake

Every night I wake up to go to the loo and I wonder where the hell we are. In fact I refuse to go back to bed until I actually work out where we are. Between that and the neck exercises sitting on the loo is quite busy. The next thing I know it’s morning and I go through the whole thing again. Cunnamulla? No. Quilpie? No. Burra? No wrong trip. Oh shit I know it’s Cairns…isn’t it? Continue reading Where the heck are we?

We ask our caravan park neighbour in a South Australian park where he got his beaut ladder from, “In Officeworks, Nowra (NSW)” he says. Which gets me to thinking, my shirt is from Balranald, my jumper from Tamworth, my Jeans from Melbourne, my hat from Yeppoon. That’s hardly Paris, Rome or New York now is it? But wait…didn’t I buy this necklace in Florence?…phew. Continue reading Wearing your travels is like collecting stamps