I live in a cold place. It's called Canberra, colloquially known as can't-really-be-bothered-being-vaguely-warm-in-winter. It’s not the same level of cold negativity that annually transcends the lands of Canada or Russia, but it’s bloody cold enough for me in this part of Australia through the mid-year J months.
It’s actually colder than a bucket of snowman’s piss. Put your hand up if you like your daily temperature being colder than a bucket of snowman’s piss. Nope, I’m not seeing any hands.
Recently, in a desperate attempt to escape the absolute catastrophe of glaciality and cold weather sass I get from this place, I undertook a driving holiday with a friend, with the destination 'warm sunny place' plugged into Ailish (the Irish satnavigator).
A holiday north was on the cards, with the promise of sunshiney goodness and the wonderful, warm and fuzzy feeling that comes with vacations from life, with the added benefit of making a lot of people who do not feel that way - because they are not on holidays - a bit annoyed and potentially prone to giving you a well deserved clip around the ear.
Ailish took us all the way to the Gold Coast - bless her electronic heart - the jewel in Queensland's crown. Sure, the jewel is a cheap costume bling number available in bulk at discount prices, but it's still part of the symbolic headwear representing solar power, people who say 'ay' to end every sentence, sun and balmy beautiful weather, and what's not to love about all those things.
The Gold Coast is about two days worth of driving up Australia's east coast from Canberra. That's two days to think long and hard about what the hell is wrong with you to think driving it was a good idea.
I haven’t been to the Gold Coast for many years, but before I went I was reliably informed by a multitude of all types that it was trashbag central; a dumpster’s paradise, a dustbin of deplorables, a compost heap of reprobates, a gigantic tramp and sleaze rubbish tip. As it turns out, it really isn’t half as bad as any of that. It's more of a shiny, new dumpster out the back of a hipster cafe.
The drive up north is endless, but Day One was pleasant enough. It was a quickie overnighter in Port Macquarie, with a fish and chips dindins and visit to the flicks to watch Wonder Woman, which isn’t the best choice of evening activity when you’ve been driving for seven hours on a highway.
Cruising the motorway for hours on end puts you in a semi-hypnotic state with an inability to respond to any other stimuli except cars braking hard in front of you. So I walked around Port in a zombie type stupor, ignoring anything that was devoid of bright red tail lights. It's just fortuitous that the city doesn’t have a red light district.
Day Two was treacherous, with floods and driving rains, pot holes the size of large pot holes, trucks spewing tonnes of filthy truck water in all directions, the Grafton experience, and Jake Gyllenhaal offering poor road safety advice from the backseat, circa 2012 all over again. It's from a movie - keep up.
Once on the Goldy, it rained a lot, but it was still never really that cold. Bless your heart Queensland, you sly, old, warm dog.
In lieu of more words right now - here are some pictures to distract you from the fact there are no more words coming at this point in time.
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| North Polar lighting. |
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| I like to conceal myself against my background to confuse my enemies. |
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| Nailing life, at Gold Coast Sea World. |
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| Players. |
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| I'm gonna get you. |
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| Creeper. |
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| Bundy Rum buoyancy. |
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| ...Yeah I've got nothing. |
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| Renowned Sharkgirl. |
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| Dolphin Nursery. |
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| This lady is on the "Dolphin Enrichment"shift, which seems to mainly involve playing with dolphins. |
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| Gold Coast after an East Coast low. |
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| Gold Coast beach. A petri dish
of potential staph infections.
Also, closed.
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| Hashtag expletitively beautiful. |
