We drove into Melbourne from Wilson’s Prom, like the Beverly Hillbillies. We hadn’t showered since Eden, and were just feeling a bit grotty. The city attitude of ‘every man for himself’ was very apparent from the outskirts, and was quite a shock to the system. Over the West Gate we went and landed at Yarraville, in the driveway of Aunty Charlie & Uncle Daz. It was great to be on known territory - we knew we would be made welcome for the time we were here. This was fantastic because, like complete idiots, we’d left not only the jockey wheel, but the caravan winder back at Wilson’s Prom! I felt pretty stupid for not double checking everything was packed. We had an old winder that we kept as a spare, so that was OK, and Uncle
... read more