Well its true darlings I am jetsetting off and abroad, over sea’s, over clouds and beyond to the ever lasting place of my youth Tasmania. As i sit live and willing in a ever most humble air port i try to think of what the bloody hell am i going back to Tasmania for in this ever so cool Easter Break evening.
Besides the ding a ling ding sounds of the banjo in the backround and the eppoffessant tingle tune of “Memories” from the theme cats, i have to return for family reasons. Its a chance to undwind and un-wine, in fact i intend to make a record for a holiday and stay totally drunk from one end to the other. I allready have made the attempt to buy a little flagon in which can be filled with lovelly easter goodies like whiskey and the ever so glamour drunk mans favourite bourbon.
This will all start from a luxury beginning as i attempt to shop around the very air-conditioned airport and looking un diluted as possible. Each item that i possess in my warm hands will have the ever so shimmer of my alchol infested breath, other customers will perhaps think that i naturally preserved like a pickled onion.
One one person will be able to save me and thats my self of course. But what the hell the footballers do it dont they, why cant I. Over the next few days i will be suffering the presence of my wonderfull family. Painstaking hours of naturall non freedom that i have become used to. I will break these boundrys and fight there tea drinking friendliness, and replace it with glamourous vodka and cokes.
Either way i will be in contact with you and let you know how im going.
Love in a stupid way
Sandy
