Going Nowhere Fast
23 July 2017 | Tipperary Waters Marina
Wednesday 19 July 2017
Busted Jan out of the ER before noon yesterday. They cut her loose as fever was down and initial blood results showed no pathogens. She slept all afternoon and, after short wake-up for belated dinner around 2200, all last night. Expect she'll be on game before next poisoning in six days. Although all her beautiful, thick, waist-length, red tinged, light brown hair came out a couple weeks after beginning treatment, what were merely white streaks are made of stouter stuff. When she ties the scarf just right enough hair peaks out to fool you. Gorgeous.
Back on her feed, Jan along with entire crew will be oot and aboot, eh (she's Canadian you know) shopping, breakfasting, shopping, farting around and shopping. Excursion will utilize our estimable, 180,000 km, 2001 Ford Falcon. She goes, she stops, she burns a pant-load of petrol. Weekend markets will receive the brunt of our attention, but tools and boat crap get consideration as well, maintaining a chipper attitude amongst the engineering staff which is plotting devilishly complicated logistics for the upcoming adventure.
Entire complement woke up chipper and keen for biking to the Nightcliff market. Must do as we had run out of bush honey, produce of Humpty Doo. Those Humpty Doo bees do damn fine work. Sourcing is uniquely there short of an odyssey to Humpty Doo itself, 36 km away. Although driving to Humpty Doo takes only 29 minutes according to Google Maps, we have yet to go. Similar to ancient mariners heading toward the edge of the earth where dragons be, Humpty Doo is at the limit of civilization and one does not proceed further (nothing but outback 'til Wak Wak and beyond) without trepidation. This entire tedious explanation was perpetrated for the sole purpose of making you say Humpty Doo six times and outback 'til Wak Wak twice. We accomplished the twenty kilometer return (more energetic crew did an additional 20) followed by bupkis. Ah, the beauties of sloth.