Beyond The Big Banana

So, after driving for a large part of 13 hours we made it to Brisbane.  Land of the endless roadworks and strange nostalgia.

We spent a hour at the Big Banana to break up the trip.  I really hope never to visit it again.  

It's weird going back to the place where you grew up.  My mum still lives in the same house I lived for the first 23 years of my life. When I stay there, I sleep in the same room.

Weird.

When I was growing up, my Dad owned a car dealership.  He sold Holdens.  My mum always drove a Commodore.  My brothers and sisters who were much older than me and could all drive by the time I was about 7, all drove various second hand Holdens.  We really were the family in The Castle who had to move the Gemini and the Torana to get to the Camira.

God, does anyone remember the Camira except me?

My parents house is in a beautiful suburb, right on the Brisbane River.  The only thing that came between my mum's house and the 2010 floods was a lucky bend in the river (sorry to the flooded houses on the other side) and a swimming pool.

So after a day spent in the car eating chocolate and packets of twisties while listening to Stephen Fry read 11 chapters of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and trying to follow Madagascar and How To Train Your Dragon by listening to the soundtrack, I needed to go for a run.

I love doing this, not because I love running, but because I love having a good sticky at the houses near where my parent's live. Talk about your classic Queenslander.  My usual route takes me down the lovely Laurel Avenue, a long, gently winding jacaranda tree lined showcase of gracious homes, every second one of which seemed to be having work done today, landscaping, painting, a bit of an extension to an already enormous floor plan, or just general zhuzhing.

The sun is extra shiny in Queenland, sorry.  But you get the picture?

Because I'm a shit photographer, the photo doesn't do this one justice.  I would move into it tomorrow, given the chance.

Whenever I'm here I dream pipe dreams about moving up here, inhabiting one of these amazing homes and living on this gorgeous street.  

Then I try and drive anywhere at all, and come across roadworks and a massive traffic jam and realise even though Sydney's traffic is bad, Brisbane's is in a different league altogether.  

Tomorrow we journey to North Tamborine to spend the night with Mike's folks.  Am planning a visit to the nearby glow worm caves if the kids stop coughing.  All three of them sound like demented seals at the moment.  I'm sure you can't cough on glow worms, it can't be good for them.