I love driving down the highway from Sydney, coming around the bend and seeing the Brindabellas snuggling around Canberra, with Telstra-yama sitting in the centre. The Brindies never fail to put on a show, whether it's mid-morning or sunset.
There's no place like home. There's no place like home. The bed smells right. The shower-gush is perfect. The toilet smells familiar. The roar of Summernats in the background reminds me that it's January, and I'm home, a block away from the action. No need to give any kind of comment about Summernats, as crazybrave, in her inimitable way, has done a ripper of a job. Suffice to say that as Best Beloved and I drove down Northbourne Ave past the showground, we got cheers from the onlookers for the fact that we have a painted car. Hooray! I don't think I've shared the car with you yet; the sad fact is that I haven't bothered to take a good shot of it yet, but I do have a photo of it from Woodford, which I'll mount in a mo.
Have you worked out that I'm happy to be here? Even having buckets of work to finish isn't worrying me now that I'm dust-free (only on my body; my house is constantly protected by a fine layer of dust, and if I remove it I'm sure something dire will happen. Well, that's my excuse anyway.)
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