SBF1GPMB Day1 – Hamilton – swearing or non-swearing?

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Melbourne F1. The Qantas flight over a broken heater 12C as my fellow travellers found a use for the Australian newspaper as makeshift blankets. Sure I shivered but I was distracted by wondering what the hell was going on in Ocean’s 12 and could that really have been powdered scrambled eggs I was given? We were the only Western Australian to look forward to being warm in Melbourne, ever. How much nicer it would have been if our bags could have joined us. Never mind we’re making them courier it to us to our destination for the evening – stately estate of Charles Foster Multiplex , Hamilton 300km west.

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The very non-formula Toyota Hi-Ace headed East, Ballarat Rumerz drive-in bottle shop, Lake Bolac pub. Drink drink talk talk. I was the one urbanite but snuck in with my lifetime country creds (allows wearing of moleskins, convincingly giving directions with a stick…). I was, in essence, with the rural Village People – a welder, a builder, a trucker, a GP, a real estate agent, a studmaster (true), and a farmer. Prime stock should any future society wish to come back and kidnap us for rebuilding of lost civilisation and potential breeding purposes. Was that the tentative tug of a tractor beam I felt on the bus?

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The Caldedonian pub has fancy cakes, which I didn’t have; Brown Brother’s Lexia by the glass, which I did; and an area for smoking, swearing, and crap pool playing, didn’t, did, did. Passing the time until our bags arrived at 7pm. 7pm ah my phone, why yes hello this is me, do I still want my bags sent out? but they were supposed to be here now, you promised remember? long stream of futile smoking area abuse follows… How long has Qantas been this shabby? Finish pub’s supply of Lexia, off for an amazingly good feed-up (order was “bring us food”) and I’ll have to apologise for the sub standard photo but that’s what it looked like, shame the spinning ceiling didn’t turn out similarly convincingly. Back to our stately digs to eventually be waiting on the side of a deserted country road for a courier at 1am. Our bags!

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4 comments

  1. pixelkitty’s avatar

    Unfortunately, Qantas has been that bad for quite a while now. Last time I flew with them (on my way to Perth)it was delayed without warning for an hour, then delayed again on the tarmac for another 50 minutes, the seat was broken, my meal was incorrect and god awful, my headphones broke and they took 2/3s of the flight to replace them after I asked. At least I was able to wash away the taste with some fine white wine.

    Glad you got your luggage back, and were able to see the GP up close and personal

  2. Anthony’s avatar

    I’m very good at accepting that things sometimes happen and are willing to just have the problem solved. The first point was that it’s impossible to overload a plane with passengers luggage so we must have got dumped with some freight. Then they assured us that the bags would leave at 4PM at the latest at be at Hamilton by 7PM. When I got the phone call at 7 asking we wanted them sent, it was quite clear that they were prepared to bullshit me all the way and they weren’t going to give me decent explanation, I lost it. Just contempt on their part. Took them another 6 hours after this.

    Did get my luggage back but in manner that looked like a rural drug drop-off and did get to see the GP close, but as the drivers didn’t wave back, not personal.

  3. AnthonyJ’s avatar

    Did the GP already happen? I must have dozed off. And to think, I was going to give you my Balinese mortar and pestle.

  4. Anthony’s avatar

    Ahhh bugger, not the apostrophe one? I blame online white pages, peer group pressure, and general seediness.

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