Never Have I Wanted So Much To Retroactively Kill John Denver

Howdy Internet Peeps, and merry merryness! First off, let me apologise for the lack of post yesterday – it was my last day at work before the holidays, and I spent all of my “down-time” trying desperately to finish the murder mystery that I'm planning for New Years Eve Eve (about which a post shall be made at some point in the future...)

This blog post is slightly unique, in the fact that I'm actually writing it whilst in the back-seat of my parents' car, travelling my merry little way up the country from Bathurst (where I live) to Inverell (where my grandparents live.) It is only by virtue of Nathan (my younger brother) deciding to drive his ute up that I am alone in the car with my parents, while Nathan himself gets to suffer the torture of spending a good (and I use the term ironically) seven hours with my youngest brother, Yuck.

The trip so far has been really nice – it's been ages since I've been along the vast majority of this road (I did make the 1.5hr journey from Bathurst to Mudgee in order to watch Yuck play football earlier this year) and seeing various pieces of scenery has brought back various memories for not only myself (such as a spot where I distinctly remember vomiting along the road's edge in my first year of university) but also my parents – my father especially has been waxing nostalgic about the area he grew up in, around Coolah, as we passed through there.

I'm going to take a break from writing for the moment, but I'll come back to it later – dad's just yelled out “OH MY GOD – THE HUMANITY!!” whilst reminiscing about a dropped sausage at a supposedly “Wet and Wild” animal park just outside of Gunnedah (we can only assume that their use of those words was also ironic due to the fact that, as my father said, the wildest thing that happened while we were there was the dropped sausage I mentioned above.)

Okay, so it's about 15 minutes since I last wrote something and I'm back for just one paragraph for the moment to tell you about THE MOST AMAZING CARVED BEARS IN THE UNIVERSE!! Whilst passing through a more than typical 30-second rural NSW village (by the name of Carroll), Mum and Dad were telling me that they had looked out some really nice, homemade wooden outdoor furniture at a place towards the end of the village. I made a joke about how Carroll must be a bit of a harlot to have so many people in her at once. Then, all of a sudden and is if from nowhere there were TWO MOTHER FUCKING LIFE-SIZED WOODEN CARVED BEARS on the side of the road. FOR SALE! Unfortunately we didn't have time to stop, and so I don't have a photo to show you, but on the way home I'll see what I can do.

Ding Dong – It's been an hour and a half since I last wrote – Greetings once more, for what is surely the penultimate paragraph (discounting, of course, my moral) of this particular post. I apologise for the apathetic alliteration and absence of assonance in that (I am ashamed at what I just wrote...) I blame the fact that we are now listening to They Might Be Giants (the Flood album!) We've had a pretty good trip, and we're winding down now towards what is hopefully the final hour of the journey. During the past hour and a half my mother (who is confined to a cast, as she broke her leg several weeks ago) has been complaining of her inability to move about, and has thus resorted to dancing – in some kind of strange reverse River Dance fashion (due to her current inability to move her bottom half, and the fact that he top half is comparatively over-mobile) to alleviate her boredom. It is quite amusing, in the same way that watching a muppet seize is amusing, although I'm glad that she's having fun.

And finally I say konnichiha to you, fifty minutes after my penultimate post (don't worry, I shan't start that again) to let you know that we have arrived safely at our destination (or, at least, we are very close to it...) We just drove past one of the places I used to go to primary school (there are many of those, though, which is another blog post entirely.) This particular school, Gum Flat Primary, had space in its hallowed halls for only 34 students, and thus needed only two teachers – an infants teacher and a primary teacher. Good times, good times...

The moral of this story is that if I ever have to listen to another John Denver song again (as I did at the start of the journey – for TWO FULL CDS OF THE MAN) I may specifically invent time-travel simply so that I can ensure that he dies by my hand, rather than in that stupid plane crash...Maybe I already have, and I was the pilot? We may never know. Anyway guys, Merry Merry as I said before, and I'll be back at some stage next week (maybe ever tomorrow) with the story of Christmas Day with my extended family...