No Place Like Kent('s)
Trip Start May 19, 2009
67Trip End Ongoing
Map your own trip!
Show trip route
In this instance, I was about to find a little slice of heaven thanks to Kent W Hodgson.
I'm not going to pretend that bidding farewell to the caravan was easy. In fact, the day Soupy came and drove her away, I may have shed a chavvy tear.
But then the caravan didn't have a movie room with a flatscreen and surround sound. Kent's place, just outside Melbourne, did.
I'd met Kent in LA a few months back
Apparently, the way to a woman's heart is Dolby, as it was enough for me to fall deeply in love with Kent and suggest to him that he could do worse than make me his wife.
Alas, Kent didn't show great enthusism for my proposal, but at least I had a diversion. On the night of our stay, Kent had another visitor; a friend who Cat and I referred to simply as "green T-shirt". Cat and I admired his dry wit and hint of arrogance...and the fact he was disarmingly handsome didn't hurt either. I bet that he was 27 and worked in either architecture or graphic design.
Before we'd had time to find out, we hotfooted it to Melbourne to attend to more pressing matters, not least a removal of body hair that I suspected I'd have to get a deforestation team in to handle. (Well, you try working in a dairy for two months and caring about your appearance.)
It was also time to bid farewell. After what must surely qualify as an era spent together in Australia, and with some incredible experiences shared, Cat and I were again going our separate ways. We'd managed, in the large part, to keep it together in Murray Bridge, despite the odd row, Cat's obsession with liquid-based weight loss and my gradual decline into a mice catching maniac
Well...we almost kept it together. Until we reached the YHA in Melbourne. There, we found ourselves in the company of a number of Indian families staying for the night. When Cat strode into our room and exclaimed "God! This place is like Slumdog Millionaire!", I wondered if I'd left this goodbye a little too late. Sometimes, enough is simply enough.
So, I spent the best part of the next two days with green T shirt who, incidentally, is called Marc, is 27, and works on the railways. But then he did study architecture and work in graphic design for a few years.
Reflecting, I realised that two months of constant rain and cold had left Murray Bridge and Melbourne feeling more like Macclesfield. Fortunately, Australia is so vast that it not only crosses time zones, but also climates. Surely a foray into the sunshine of the East Coast - for me, the last frontier of mainland Australia - was well overdue?
Leaving Melbourne, I thought of Kent, and felt grateful to everyone who'd helped me out so far.
Then, I thought of Kent, England, wondered how many people I'd met who had my address back home, pulled over, and made a swift call to my parents.