Apparently it’s 2011. Apparently I’m also supposed to be back at work today, which you wouldn’t know because I left at lunch time and bought myself a $350 antique table as retail therapy to compensate for the fact that it’s 2011 and I’m supposed to be back at work today.
Negativity aside, I had a bit of a reflection on what I learnt in 2010:
1. The trick to folding fitted sheets nicely.
2. What stinging nettle looks like.
That is all. 2010 was the biggest waste of twelve months I’ve ever underachieved. 2010 was a blurry mish-mash of work, stress, red wine, bizarre physical impediments and Kelly Clarkson. And it ended with my getting a nasty head cold and going to bed at 11pm, which seems apt.
On that note, here are some photos of my Canberra holiday:
This is Holbrook. It’s about three hours out of Melbourne. It calls itself the Submarine Town, because there’s a bigass submarine in the middle of the town. It’s so bigass I couldn’t even fit it into the whole photo. I was too busy hoeing into my ham and pickle sandwich to bother visiting the information centre, so unfortunately I can’t tell you where the submarine came from or why it’s currently suffering the indignity of being mired in this tiny countrified portion of New South Wales.
That said, Holbrook is also one of the few towns you will find remaining on the Hume Highway. The Hume Highway Alliance, according to a gazillion road signs on the trip from Yass to Melbourne, is endeavouring to manufacture “dual carriageways from Melbourne to Sydney by 2012”. This means little towns like Holbrook will be bypassed by commuters, who will instead be caught by the nets strung between those ugly twin roadhouses that stand opposite each other all along Australia’s highways. They have BP and McDonald’s, what else could you possibly need? I make a point of never stopping at those roadhouses, and when poor little Holbrook and Tarcutta and Woomagarma are finally overtaken, I’ll go 5 kilometres out of my way for another ham and pickle sandwich.
These are some pics I took while driving. Because when you’re driving for seven and a half hours, you start looking for things to do apart from singing along to Midnight Oil and counting dead wombats.
This is Molongolo Gorge. It’s somewhere on the outskirts of Canberra, it’s pretty, and sometimes you can spot a train chugging along the hillside. I’m not sure why trains are so much more interesting in the countryside – if said train was at a level crossing in the middle of Dandenong on a Wednesday, I’d be saying rude words at it instead of taking photos.
And this is me prancing through the wild flowers. Enough said.