Just after Easter, me and the better half went to Kangaroo Island in South Australia for a few days. We were rather chuffed to have some fabulous weather and it was relatively quietish tourist-wise. No queues, no taffic jams, no problems finding a park anywhere.
Also no finding a sandwich anywhere outside of normal lunch hours.
In a previous life, I religiously ate lunch between 1 and 2 because that's what corporate life does to you. However, when on holidays, I like to mess with my routine by having a late breakfast and subsequently, a late lunch. Sometimes, in a pique of rebellion, I don't even eat lunch - opting instead for coffee and cake. I know, I know...such a reckless maverick.
This very recklessness nearly brought me undone when, at around 3ish, I found myself a tad peckish and approaching a little township. "Aha!", I did think unto myself. "Sandwich." (Although you probably can't tell by the length of this blog post, I quite like brevity in thought.)
Alas, there was no sandwich or anything else to be had, as all eateries were closed. On a Tuesday. Not a public holiday Tuesday. Fortunately a rummage in my day pack yielded a smashed up muesli bar, some biscuit crumbs masquerading as BBQ shapes, and a sticky redskin lolly that had probably been in there since before my dinosaur was born. Death by starvation narrowly avoided then.
Anyway....we stayed at Browns Beach and scored some perfect sunsets and amazing colours. KI is really quite lovely and I don't know why I'd never been before given I'm a regular visitor to Adelaide. Maybe I'm just lazy. Oh yeah, actually that's it.
That, and the astronomical fee to ferry a car over there.
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