Not deterred, the remaining adult at the house decided to take the kids to school herself – youngest has skiing with school on Tuesdays, which he loves, so off they went down the detour advised by the local Police.
OK, heading off in the direction of Peak Hill and Numeralla they go - maybe 60km or so. They need to be in Cooma by 9:00am for the ski bus. Did I mention that I drove the Jeep on Sunday? Hmmm, maybe I should have filled it up a little more, but there was only a trip to Cooma planned this week – quarter of a tank should have sufficed.
Anyway, they get up in the hills, there’s snow all around, the road is steep, windy and muddy and there’s not much fuel left in the tank. Of course this is the time I decide to give them a ring on the mobile. Eldest son answers, “hi Dad, were sort of lost up in the hills right now can you call back?” Yeah, right! So I wait a bit and call back, it’s now 9:15am and I get eldest son again “hi Dad we’re at the ski shop – no petrol left in the car and youngest son has missed the bus.” Great – I’m in for it when I get home! “Put your mother on lad,” I bravely say, knowing that if I get her on the phone in a public place I could possibly repair a little of the damage before we come face to face (I’m a coward!). Then, like the fool I am, I say “How’d it go?” “Oh, just great” comes the reply, “I’m at the counter I’ll call you back.” That’s it I’m dead!
So the youngest is off to the snowfields, with a friend. Big kid is at school and the remaining adult is stuck in Cooma until the road is cleared. Guess I’m washing up for the rest of the week.
Todays picture is of the mess in the chicken pen we had to clean up when we first arrived a year ago.