I had grand plans for this, what will most likely be my final Aussie Odyssey blog post. It was the final countdown this week you see, before I had to submit myself to the unenviable responsibility of fronting up at work. Bec had made the inevitable return to work last Monday and now today, it was to be my turn. I had hoped that, as you all sat down to coffee and toast for breakfast, you would also have been able to log onto the Internet and be regaled with tales of my final week of holidays. I would, I had envisaged, already be intent on finding the bottom of my own cup of coffee, maybe even my second, nose to the grindstone, hard at work by this stage. Well, okay, maybe not exactly hard at work, but assuredly back in the office and getting ready to perform miracles at the coalface.

Work however got in the way and thus my timeframe conspired to drive a wedge into my plans, throw a spanner in the works so to speak, as I struggled to arise after a terrible nights sleep. Had I not awoken with something of a start to the crescendo that is my alarm, I might have even said I didn’t sleep a wink all night. Therefore, instead of being able to peruse my thoughts for the week over your morning cuppa, it will instead have to be relegated to after dinner reading, or at this rate maybe evening scrutiny over breakfast on Tuesday morning. For this I apologise, although it will allow me to detail all the fun and excitement that was my first day back at work.

As a result of this imminent return to the workforce, my week has been a mixture of anxiety, dread and denial. It seems now so long ago that I wrote those fateful words about my saddening exodus from the office. Was it really only six months ago? Because it certainly feels like a lifetime ago. So much has transpired in the intervening time, that I no longer feel defined by my work and yet here I am returning to the drudgery. It was of course inexorable as we had found no way of making life on the road pay for itself, so our return to work becomes a necessary means to an end. Without work, there would be no money. Without money, there would be no more travel. Without travel, there would be no more rambling tales with which to warrant mystifying depiction upon these very pages.

On that note, have no fear, because further trips are in the making as we speak. My little nook of a study that I have nicknamed ‘The War Room’ has been a thriving hive of activity almost since the moment of our return, as I investigate boundless possibilities for our next trip. Like a mother hen tending her eggs, I have been busy hatching plans and ideas for all manner of future holidays. I am not just limiting the prospects to overland tours by ‘Beast’ and caravan, but exploring every avenue I can. I do this you must understand, not out of a personal desire to see all that Australia and the world has to offer, but in an entirely unselfish pursuit to bring the story of these same sights back to those at home via my inane rambling. And herein lies the one possibility that I have found to fund our travels. I jotted down some calculations the other night on a scrap of paper. As it turns out, if I can entice just 360 people to pledge the miserly sum of $5.00 per person per week, Bec and I could become professional travellers. I have even already started to sign people up, so now only need a further 358 supporters. Ahh, my eyes are misting over just thinking about it.

My fanciful scheme seems destined for failure however, so I therefore must return to work. 8:00AM on the dot, my day began in a fashion that suggested that I was the only one in the office that possessed the innate realisation that I had been away for more than half of the year. There was a quick welcome back from the boss, before I was seated in the same old chair, at the same old desk, in front of the same old computer that was still as slow and troublesome as what it had been when I left it six months ago. Before I knew it, I had bulk deleted thousands of emails and was right back to where I started from, looking at the computer screen, wishing with all of my might that the glassy reflections were coming from the crystal clear water of a deserted beach on a warm summers day somewhere up in the north west corner of Western Australia instead of, as they were, from the flickering computer monitor. Even the congenial office banter of which I would normally be enthralled was relegated to a background thrum of indecipherable words as my mind drifted off to my happy place. Oh, happy place, where art thou, happy place.

So there you have it, the holiday is most certainly at an end. As a result, todays blog will be the final in this series. I will be taking a brief hiatus, a vacation if you will, from the fun and excitement of bringing to you, my readers, the minutiae of our daily lives. During this time, I will be busy working on several projects, one of which is a reworking of the ‘myramblingtales’ website. I don’t know yet what I will do to reinvigorate it, but rest assured, whatever I decide, it will be fun, upbeat and sure to be lots of laughs. I am expecting that towards the end of this year or the very start of next, I will be beaming to you live from somewhere in this great country of ours, with plenty of new stories.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.