There are some sounds that just aren’t nice. Finger nails dragging down a chalk board is one. A shovel scraping over concrete (Emma’s favourite noise) is another. As a caravan pilot I do not like the sound of an awning trying to occupy the same space as a tree. I couldn’t describe just what this sound is like, suffice perhaps to say it is sufficiently different to the usual caravan noises to have made me very quickly realise I had done something stoopid.
It all happened at a carpark just outside the Barossa town of Angaston. As I manoeuvred the car and van away from the edge of the drive the awning fitted to the outside edge of the caravan caught the edge of a tree that was clearly located too close to the Yalumba winery. The tree must have been drunk because it was leaning heavily to the side. Continue reading “Day 126 Duck… duck… GOOSE!”


