(n.) when you start to feel grumpy and snarky because you miss the beach. Source: Pinterest.
After all the chopping and changing of dates and postponing plans we made it to Evans Head for our first real holiday in five years, and the first in our new-to-us caravan.
Our previous proper holiday was 5 months road-tripping around Australia towing our old pop-top caravan. We arrived back home on 10 October 2016.
This year’s original holiday plan was conceived during our seemingly futile search to buy caravan. We booked a week in a beach house at Hawks Nest to celebrate the G.O.’s retirement; then shifted the dates from June to July to November, a casualty of conflicting commitments.
The subsequent holiday at Evans Head came about after we bought our caravan in June from a member of a local caravan club of which the G.O.’s aunt is president. As a gesture of goodwill & gratitude for her help, we joined the club and agreed to attend the next rally at Evans Head in September… postponed due to a Covid lockdown 20 minutes after I made the booking, then moved by the club to mid-October.
We were all set to go, when a couple of days beforehand we received a call necessitating the G.O. attend a medical appointment with his mother during the week we’d booked for Evans Head. I cried for a couple of minutes then telephoned the caravan park and delayed our arrival until later in the week: in hindsight, fortuitous given the 134 mm rain they received on our initial arrival date.
Indeed our holiday passed a little too quickly for our liking so the day before our departure we made a correction… this time in our favour, and deferred it by 2 days.
“To some it’s just sand and water. To me, it’s where I regain my sanity.” Source: Facebook