I’m on countdown mode for a holiday; only four more sleeps to go. I’ve just got a final check-through to do, and a report to write, for an editing job (I’m having a short break, sir, and then I’ll be right back to it) and then I’ll be free! Well, sort of. I’m taking a stack of reading with me, none of them my choice. I’m one of the judges for a competition and I have a bucket load of books to get through in the next month or so. And no – I won’t tell you what competition in case you’ve entered it and you end up disappointed. I value what little health I have left. I’m sure most of the books will be enjoyable and the others will make me feel better about my own efforts. So, thank you in advance to those people. (See why I won’t say which competition?)

I’m hoping to get some of my own writing done while I’m away. I have a deal with the Old Boy (my darlin’): we alternate days. One day he goes poking about in the dirt, hunting for rocks and I pound away at the keyboard. Okay, I admit an awful lot of pondering, day-dreaming and solitaire playing – just to break the monotony – also goes on, but you know how it is. Some days, the muse just doesn’t want to come out to play. And in any case, at the very first writers’ workshop I attended, the expert assured us that day-dreaming was an essential part of the writing process, so I refuse to feel guilty. So there!

On the alternate day we do something together: wandering about in the bush looking for other rocks (for him) and gold or wildlife (for me); visiting something touristy; finding the best available bakery/coffee shop (requires extensive research); or getting lost on dirt roads. The Old Boy claims that, unlike myself, he never gets lost. Once we were interstate, heading into the capital city. It was dark and the streets seemed to be getting seedier as the minutes passed by. Eventually we pulled up under a street lamp and the Old Boy took out a map. The offspring and I chorused: Admit it. You’re lost! ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I know exactly where we are.’ And where are we? ‘We’re right here.’ He then got out of the car to stand under the light, so as to see the map better…and possibly so he couldn’t hear our derisive laughter.

This is the first time Rex the Wonder Dog will visit this particular holiday spot. We haven’t been there for a few years. The last time was with Mickey the Mighty, (a chihuahuaXterrier) who has now gone to that great foot cushion in the sky. It should be an interesting experience for the mutt. Lots of lovely smells out in the country-side. Mickey used to go positively mental whenever he had the chance to roll in fresh kangaroo poo. We’re going to have to take a jumbo bottle of dog shampoo with us: Rex is white. (Stupid colour for a dog!)

It’ll be a nice change of scenery and a break from the usual routine and… Actually, it’ll be a nice change of scenery. Let’s face it: I still get to cook the meals, wash our clothes, do the dishes… So, not much change to the routine. My idea of a real holiday is a four or five star (I’m not picky) hotel, with room-service, a fabulous dining room and all-you-can-eat buffet. If there was enough money, I wouldn’t bother washing my clothes, I’d just buy new stuff. Sigh. I know there are people who actually get to do that sort of thing. I’ve read the magazines. One day, when I’m rich and famous…

Meanwhile it’ll be a little old farmhouse that we’re paying peanuts for, with linoleum floor coverings (so cosy in winter) and the toilet at the opposite end of the house from the bedroom. (Nothing like combining piddle breaks and walking/jogging exercise at the same time.) It’ll be fun. Honestly. No, really. Don’t forget the scenery! And the kangaroo poo… I’ll be posting the next couple of blogs from there, so watch this space.