Cathy and I have decided to leave Sydney for Christmas and New Year. We have some web design work that can keep us busy; its a site for Cathy's brother. His idea is to start moving the shop into the 21st century and getting on the web. www.campingandangling.co.uk is the result. Its simple to begin with but Robs idea is
that it should grow and grow with time.
We had decided to go up to Byron Bay, as from what Becky has said, it should be exciting. There are street parties and fireworks over the new year and plenty to keep us occupied the rest of the time. The couple I met last time I was in Byron Bay, Melissa and Mike, are also able to accomodate us. I must admit to some trepidation at sharing a house with their baby Holly as well. I know babies to be pretty poor conversationalists, are not big beer drinkers and lack certain subtleties in their toilet technique.
We arrived on December 21st, after a twelve hour coach journey. The trip wasnt particularly pleasant as within half and hour of leaving Sydney, the man sat in front of me decided to fall violently ill. He vomited down his window and the side of his seat. Miraculously he was silent in his actions and the only giveaway was the smell of vomit that grew within the coach. The other was that he hadnt finished, and after climbing over a rather large girl who was sat next to him, he moved towards the rear of the coach where the toilet lived. His stomach was only half empty and he made sure this other half was covered liberally over a number of passengers as he staggered towards the toilet. Only when the lights came on was the full extent of the damage revealed. A girl had lumps of porridge like acidic substance spattered down her arm. A man had lumps of porridge in his lap and on his leg. How the culprit missed soiling the large girl he was sat next to remains a mystery to this day. Needless to say, he stayed in the toilet from the shame of his actions and to avoid the wrath of a stinking, acidic porridge covered coachload.
Fortunately we arrived in Byron Bay, minus sense of humour but happily minus vomit. Becky came to meet us, and got us a drink at the beach hotel, as Mike and Mel were getting ready to go to Sydney. They were off south and had bad luck with the van. Becky was going to give them a lift to the airport. We arrived after our drink to receive a quick handover; I took in the details of barbeque firing, while Cathy learnt the intricicities of the washing machine. We were also informed as to how serious the water shortage had become, as we were only one level away from having to bathe in our own urine. Then they were off.
The days leading up to Christmas were wonderfully relaxing. Sydney had become a riot with the shopping and seasonal music in the shops. Thinking about it, I dont recollect hearing any Christmas tunes in any shop in Byron Bay. We went to the beach, with me trying to surf at Tallow beach. This break dumps heavily and I finned my leg before losing a fin and dinging the board. I could hardly walk as my leg had been cut open, but it healed quickly. I finished up my Christmas shopping and we also stocked up the fridge with steaks, shrimps, sausages, wine, beer, salad, chocolate, and a Christmas cake that Cathy had iced.
On Christmas Eve, Becky and Reza came over for dinner, another barbeque, and we ate our way through sausages and steaks, drank lots of wine whilst talking about life, the meaning of life, and lifestyle. Sitting surrounded by cicadas and candles made me appreciate that I had made the right decision by coming away for Christmas. There was always going to be certain aspects that I would miss, but enjoying the Christmas period with good weather seems so much more civilised than huddling indoors watching Only Fools and Horses
and badly cut-for-TV action films.
We arrived on December 21st, after a twelve hour coach journey. The trip wasnt particularly pleasant as within half and hour of leaving Sydney, the man sat in front of me decided to fall violently ill. He vomited down his window and the side of his seat. Miraculously he was silent in his actions and the only giveaway was the smell of vomit that grew within the coach. The other was that he hadnt finished, and after climbing over a rather large girl who was sat next to him, he moved towards the rear of the coach where the toilet lived. His stomach was only half empty and he made sure this other half was covered liberally over a number of passengers as he staggered towards the toilet. Only when the lights came on was the full extent of the damage revealed. A girl had lumps of porridge like acidic substance spattered down her arm. A man had lumps of porridge in his lap and on his leg. How the culprit missed soiling the large girl he was sat next to remains a mystery to this day. Needless to say, he stayed in the toilet from the shame of his actions and to avoid the wrath of a stinking, acidic porridge covered coachload.
Fortunately we arrived in Byron Bay, minus sense of humour but happily minus vomit. Becky came to meet us, and got us a drink at the beach hotel, as Mike and Mel were getting ready to go to Sydney. They were off south and had bad luck with the van. Becky was going to give them a lift to the airport. We arrived after our drink to receive a quick handover; I took in the details of barbeque firing, while Cathy learnt the intricicities of the washing machine. We were also informed as to how serious the water shortage had become, as we were only one level away from having to bathe in our own urine. Then they were off.
The days leading up to Christmas were wonderfully relaxing. Sydney had become a riot with the shopping and seasonal music in the shops. Thinking about it, I dont recollect hearing any Christmas tunes in any shop in Byron Bay. We went to the beach, with me trying to surf at Tallow beach. This break dumps heavily and I finned my leg before losing a fin and dinging the board. I could hardly walk as my leg had been cut open, but it healed quickly. I finished up my Christmas shopping and we also stocked up the fridge with steaks, shrimps, sausages, wine, beer, salad, chocolate, and a Christmas cake that Cathy had iced.
On Christmas Eve, Becky and Reza came over for dinner, another barbeque, and we ate our way through sausages and steaks, drank lots of wine whilst talking about life, the meaning of life, and lifestyle. Sitting surrounded by cicadas and candles made me appreciate that I had made the right decision by coming away for Christmas. There was always going to be certain aspects that I would miss, but enjoying the Christmas period with good weather seems so much more civilised than huddling indoors watching Only Fools and Horses
and badly cut-for-TV action films.
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