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Published: August 11th 2013
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Morningbird creation So we left the Sunny coast hinterland and rejoined Highway 1. We drove north for about 4 hours, through Gympie, Childers and Bundaberg, to arrive at Agnes Waters, which is just before the historic town of 1770. Here there is a bonza camp ground called Workmans Beach, an idyllic sub tropical paradise. Although one could be forgiven for thinking one was above the tropic of Capricorn and indeed embellished in the warm tropics. For $6 pp pn, its high end paradise at rock bottom budget. with an easy stroll through tropical palms down to a private beach. With great north facing views to 1770, its' top winter hideaway stuff, What could go wrong? you ask? A good array of sandy camp sites with more than enough room to swing the proverbial cat. Only drawback, being a beach camp, its sand, sand, sand, even with full annexe set up, door mat down, wiping of shoes, the incessant sand still finds its way into Freedom Machine.
So its hightailing to the 'Wounded Bull' hardware store, where they charge like you guessed it, wounded bulls. Making money hand over fist, we had very little change out of a hundred dollar bill, to buy
quality 12v vacuum cleaner. We arrived back at camp as happy as Larry. Not only could we swing the cat, we had to keep it in the bag, before every Tom, Dick and Harry, got wind of our prize possession. Fire up the new vac. for a little test run and it works like a treat. we are as happy as a pig in mud. It sucked up all the sand, like cyclone Tracy. But blow me down, heavens to betsy, we have a little big man neighbor. (You know the type, vertically challenged man, who wears over sized clothing to appear as the BIG MAN ). His acute hearing has heard our vac, now I gotta tell you this man is something else. He definitely has a kangaroo loose in the top paddock, a sandwich short of a picnic and is not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
He needs a segway to get his grubby little hands on our new vac, so over he comes. "Excuse me mate, can you please help me shift my boat", so good samaritan Morningbird, goes over to help him shift the boat. After moving his boat about two feet, he comes
out with the sting. He says to me "your a very clever man, with that vacuum cleaner, sand in the sliding door compartment of your van, does a lot of damage. Do you think I could borrow your vacuum cleaner, for my sliding door?" So the games up, he's onto it, gotta think quick, I reply "sorry mate, the vac belongs to my wife, I would have to ask her". So as quick as a flash I'm out of there, to clue Littleflower up on the story.
So all is quiet on the western front, no sign of trouble in the camp, avoid little big man like the plague, cooking with gas, so to speak.
Until one night, out of the blue, Littleflower and Morningbird are on their twilight wander around the camp. taking a gander at all the other happy campers, we cautiously approach little big mans camp. All hell is breaking loose, there is a huge barney going on, yes he is having a one man argument with himself. There is lots of self abuse, things being thrown around like an out of control spin dryer on steroids, stone the bloody crows, he is as mad as
a cut snake. He spies us heading back to camp, he struts on over, half pissed, I'm not sure where the other half is,
"Excuse me mate, you wouldn't happen to have a can opener would you?", alarm bells ringing, this sounds suspiciously like another segway to the vacuum cleaner. I mean every camper worth his salt, has a can opener don't they?, Its just his little 2bob to get to the vacuum cleaner, gotta think quick again!!. I don't want to set the cat amongst the pigeons, which ever way you cut it, he wants our vac. I think to myself, "for gods sake man, give us a break." So I make up porky pie, about not having a can opener, "No we don't have one," he replies "Well how on gods earth do you open your cans" more diatribe. "We only buy ring pull tins", I smartly reply, now he is getting as hot as hades, he stares blankly and trots off to his camp. He was a little down the track, but I could hear the cogs turning in his neanderthal brain. He stops abruptly, you could have heard a pin drop, he wheels around like
Casey Stoner doing donuts in the car park. He boldly struts up again, like he's got the biggest bee in his bonnet, "BEETROOT, BEETROOT, do you eat BEETROOT", he exclaims, I ask myself who is this chucker?, and where does he get off?. I reply "well actually yes we do eat beetroot", AH HA!, he triumphantly pounces, "You need a can opener for BEETROOT, dam he's got me here, I gotta think quick again. Knowing there are no ring pull tins for beetroot, otherwise scarlet ink goes everywhere, "We only eat fresh beetroot" I tell him. He scratches his little big man head, "No can opener, what about the vacuum cleaner, I suppose that's out too," I have to inform him "pretty much yep!," he skulks away, "your a very clever man, your a very clever man."
Next day, we gotta get out of this place, can't hack much more of little big man, but as we do a lap to the exit. Little big man is standing with his oversized jacket on, hands on his hips, like the town sheriff, watching us leave with THE VAC, and probably a can opener, and its get outa town before sundown
time.
Apart from little big man scenario, we did get to enjoy the walk down through the palm forest to the most northerly surf beach on the east coast, the private beach is just beautiful with its cosy bay, embracing cliff structures and n.w views to 1770, our next port of call. Until then wishing you all peace and love in abundance. (no, thats' not dancing bread) big love Morningbird and Littleflower.
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