It’s episode 6! I’m more excited than anyone else that will ever read this, I know. I’m typing this above, I dunno, somewhere on the route between Doha and Copenhagen. And I’m almost up to date! On my headphones I’m listening to an album by Dave, some badly named hip hop artist from SW London, and enjoying all the references to places I used to frequent when growing up. But enough of that, let’s talk Byron Bay.
Byron Bay is a town at the northern end of New South Wales. We’ve been staying very close to the border of Queensland and New South Wales, in fact the border cuts the airport runway in half. Kevin had always planned to show me the place, and his desire to do so was not diminished by his hangover.
I should’ve been hungover too, really I should. We bought 18 beers from Balter and got through 16 of them, of various strengths, with very little food to go with it. When I woke up at about 5am, hearing the dog whining outside the caravan, my first thought was “holy shit that bed was comfortable”, followed by “why don’t I feel ropey?”. But I didn’t! Go me!
The girls, egged on by Auntie Jo who wasn’t working today, decided to opt for a day in the jacuzzi and pool so it was only me and Kevin who set off. 8am, I mean, what are we thinking? But there we are. It’s a pretty nice drive for only 40 miles or so, stopping at a farm called The Farm for breakfast.
There are some big shoes at the entrance, though not “Big Shoes” as if they were in the list of “Australia’s Big Things”. By now, on Friday morning, I’m a little miffed that I’ve missed out on some of the Big Things near where we’ve been. The Big Pineapple would’ve added an hour to our zoo trip on Tuesday, and the Big Lawnmower we drove past was a bit rubbish. Around here in NSW there’s some “Biggest Small Town” or something, but nothing that matches the Big Merino or Big Prawn or Big Banana. One of these days I’ll visit some more, but anyway, here’s those big-with-a-small-b shoes.
This is a working farm but with a track around the fields where the animals live, but before any of that I need to stave off my hanger. That’s “h-anger”, hunger-anger, not, like, a coat hanger. Anyway. Food. Blood sausage please.
Looks better than it tastes. The black pudding is delicious, everything is else is decidedly average. The cup of tea also comes in a pot that’s got ideas above its station.
Right. Food done, let’s look at some animals.