Monday 11th August
I couldn’t bloody believe it; five women in the house and no
sodding tampons! Not a solitary single one. Laura looked a bit guilty saying
she had taken the last one from my bung bag in the night because she had run
out too, as I dumped the contents from handbag on the bed to see if one was
lurking among the layer of detritus at the bottom – there wasn’t! She thought I
had another cache somewhere in my luggage. I hadn’t packed extra, I had assumed
I would have enough to last this time and I’d buy some more out here for next
month. I hadn’t realised Laura was helping herself from my bung bag too. I
frantically knocked at the girls’ door, after discovering the family cabinet in
the main bathroom only had pads, to see if either of them had any. They didn’t.
Bloody useless or what?
I ended up having to use a pad and wait until the pool
opened as I knew there was a vending machine in there which sold the Aussie
equivalent of the kind I use. [Lil-lets in case you are wondering.] Jill pulled a face at the idea of going
swimming when I was ‘on’ but I always have done and worn a tampon. It works for
me. Annabelle was all, “What if you leak, while swimming? That would be so
gross…” I told her it was more gross having to wear a mediaeval style solution
instead of something which kept everything tidied away and created no mess or
uncomfortable feelings at all.
I explained I inserted a fresh one before going into the
pool. Even if I had a flow like a severed vein I’d be good for about an hour.
They both cringed a bit. I asked them if their Mum hadn’t given them the ‘talk’
and they said she had but she’d also said they didn’t ought to go swimming
during their period. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe she hasn’t encouraged them
to use tampons either. I can’t even believe that she isn’t using them as well.
I mean, it is just so obvious and less messy all round. Even virgin Laura is a
tampon user, OK she has had several things inside there – especially since I
have had anything to do with it - but she thinks the idea of pads is so
primitive too! Jeff just sat in the back seat and squirmed at our
conversational gambit. He needs to hear ‘women stuff’ it may make him a better
man when he grows up.
At the pool I was saved by a newly filled vending machine.
Phew. I only bought one packet as they worked out so expensive from the
machine. After swimming I nipped over the road to the shops and bought a mega
boxful from the supermarket.
This morning was emotional in another way too, which had
nothing to do with mine and Laura’s monthlies; today we were going off in the
camper, doing the reverse of the circuit I had done with the girls last year.
To that end we had loaded it all up after we got back from Bruce and Tania’s.
This morning after our swim and breakfast we were taking the kids to school in
the camper and then heading off to Toodyay and then Northam for our first stop
of the night, however this didn’t quite go to plan as we got a Skype from Mum
before we left for school, so we told her we’d drive the kids to school and
come back and Skype her from Suze’s to use her power and computer rather than
use my tablet.
Mum was in a tizzy because Gran had fallen and was in
hospital with a broken arm and slight concussion. She had been attempting
something in the garden, Mum wasn’t too specific about what had happened but it
seems that during whatever she was doing took a tumble from a small stool thing
she has. Luckily, she fell into a bush and then sort of rolled out of the bush
onto the garden where she put her arm out to break her fall and hit her head on
the lawn. She has actually broken her left wrist and grazed the left side of
her head. The neighbour on that side of
the house saw it all happen and rushed round. She realised an ambulance was
needed and summoned one. She also followed as it took her to Melrose, rather
than one of the two piddling hospitals in Hawick. Once Gran was assessed and
x-rayed and admitted the neighbour phoned Mum who brought her visit to Hawick
forward. This all happened on Saturday.
Mum screamed up the M1, A1 and A68 to find Gran admitted for
the night as a precaution for the concussion and as there was no-one else at
home. Mum went back there as soon as possible on Sunday morning but the
hospital wouldn’t discharge Gran until the consult had seen her and he doesn’t come
round until today. It was just after 1 am when Mum called us and she was fine
with us calling back when we had dumped the kids. She was still awake at 2pm
having gone ‘past sleep’, according to her.
The consultant won’t get to see Gran until mid-morning and I
persuaded Mum to go to bed as soon as we’d hung up and then once she had Gran
back in her bungalow in Hawick to Skype Suze. She could then relay the details
to me in Kalgoorlie. I didn’t think she’d agree but she said she would. It
seemed a good idea to warn Suze so I drove us down to Mandurah to speak face to
face, so much better than a phone call. She was quite sanguine about it – being
a nurse that is hardly surprising, I suppose. She hasn’t seen Gran in person
since 2000. They have Skyped occasionally but not too often.
What with one thing and another we weren’t ready to set off
until almost noon. We stopped for the night at Northam after driving slightly
further north to show Laura Dad’s property in Toodyay first. It is quite pretty
up in the edge of the Great Plateau, where the Darling Ranges end and the’wheat
belt’ begins to appear. Dad’s property still hasn’t been developed and there is
talk of new legislation being brought through the W. A. parliament to make
absentee landowners do something about the land they own but aren’t using. A
sort of ‘use or lose it’ approach.
We had plenty of time to find the double-sized plot and see
the hut which Suze and Pete have erected on it to show it is in use! (Laughable
but effective, apparently.) We found the campsite that the girls and I used
last year and had a better look around than we had last time, as it hadn’t gone
dark by the time we’d set up. We strolled down to the Avon Bridge Hotel for our
evening meal and ended up spending most of the evening there. Two skinny, blonde
English girls seemed to draw the Ockers out of the woodwork. It seemed a good
idea to avoid mentioning we were lesbians as the drinks kept coming our way. We
had a ride in the back of a Ute, with Greg’s mate, Tim, making sure we didn’t
fall out, to the campsite but Greg, Col and Tim were a bit disappointed not to
get invited into to our camper. We asked them to drop us at the gates of the
park which we could tell they found disappointing but they gallantly did. I
supposed they imagined they might get some British pussy – Hah! They’d have got
menstruating pussy instead.
Laura was a bit shocked that we had freeloaded ourselves to
drunkenness in the bar but I was more pragmatic about it; it had cheered those
guys up and we hadn’t promised anything for getting the drinks. Look upon it as
payment for our company. Lol. (She didn’t get it.)
Tuesday August 12th.
Up with the larks this morning and broke the first rule of
camping – don’t fry bacon with your windows open; it drives everyone who hasn’t
got bacon mad!
I promised Laura she could have a go at the driving today.
So at Merredin we swapped roles. By Coolgardie she’d had enough. She expressed
great appreciation for the fact I had driven myself around the continent
without a spare driver to take over when I felt tired. I explained when I had
felt tired I simply pulled over, locked up and went to sleep. I had good old
Buster as company then so I felt safe. (That sweet little woofie has gone to
the great play park in the sky.)
We arrived in Kalgoorlie in plenty of time to get set up on
the campsite after visiting the local shop for extra rations. The evening meal
was a Laura concoction of tuna steaks and pasta with peppers, spring onions and
mushrooms. [They give you a sign to mark that the pitch is taken, should you
drive off after registering. Neat idea.] We drove back into the town after dusk
and I tried to get Laura to see the glories of the old mining town. I am afraid
she rapidly came to the same conclusion as I did last year: Kalgoorlie is a
dump. We went past the Hay Street brothel and I think Laura was genuinely
shocked. I had a brilliant idea for the morning though, which I didn’t pass on
to my beloved. Back at the campsite we decided on an early night after a quick
Skype with Suze to tell me that Gran was back home and Mum was clucking round
her like an old hen! Just like her really.
Wednesday 13th Aug
Today was a day of two visits both connected with men going
into dark holes! We found there was a guided tour of the Super Pit, as it is
known, so we got ourselves booked onto the 9.30, two and a half hour tour. We
had a dress code to follow in order to go it, which was worrying as we thought
we might fail the shoe requirement. Our outfit had to be long sleeved, long
legged [trousers not a skirt or dress] and our feet had to be fully covered
too. That was the problem, until I found a pair of Jill’s trainers in the
bottom of the under bed space. Lucky call that one or else Laura would have
needed to buy a pair. I had only put my NBs in at the last minute. Good job,
eh. The tour even had a dedicated parking space for camper van drivers, which
was a first. We were also issued with a hi-vis vest and safety glasses.
The tour bus was very swish and air conditioned – useful out
here in the heat. We had a safety talk about the mine and the hazards; what we
were allowed to do and what we should avoid. It looks like the mine trucks are
kids’ toys as you view them from the viewing area up top but close up and
personal they are unbelievably ginormous! They dwarfed the bus! Each truck has
a sort of staircase like attachment fixed to the front to allow the driver to
get in them!
In fact the whole site is massive. Apparently it can be seen
from the orbiting space station! Phew! There are what look like huge steps cut
into the sides of the pit, which is how they worked out the ore; at first I had
the awful feeling we were going to go down those but there is a road network
through the site. In some of the places on the road down the turns and bends
make you want to shut your eyes and scream. It was a good job we weren’t
driving quickly! We didn’t go all the way down to the bottom but we were given
a thorough tour of most of the plant and the workings. They pointed out some of
the diggers on the floor of the pit and then we were told to look out for a man
in a vest and hat to give it some perspective. We couldn’t see him at first!
When the guide told us where to look he was minute, standing next to the
digger’s bucket. You could easily have fitted two AFL sides and subs into one
digger bucket!
Fimiston Mill was vast and really dusty. It would make a
great film set for space exploration films. There are exposed girders and
walkways and gantries and stuff. Most of it painted yellow for some reason. I
was going to ask why yellow, but forgot. In comparison the control room was
quite tiny but it had a huge bank of large TV screen/monitors – some with views
of the site and some with charts and graphics on them. Complicated looking for
sure. We saw the milling process and realised why the pit was so big and how
much better it was than the old method of sinking a hole in the ground and
hopefully striking a rich lode! Here you get everything there is to be found.
We were shown some gold in its ‘raw’ state and you could understand why those
guys went looking for, it all those years ago, in the first place.
It was a really well spent $70 and two and bit hours of our
time.
We had a bite from the local Subway before embarking on our
next quest; to the Questa Casa brothel for their guided tour. It was less than
a third of the price of the pit tour and much less dusty, although I must admit
some of the rooms themselves were a bit tacky. The woman guide, whom I must assume
works here by night, was full of knowledge and details, especially about the
history of prostitution in the town. She kept a flow of interesting comments,
sometimes so politically incorrect it was unbelievable. I think that the guys
on the tour were more embarrassed about the sex toys and sex talk than the
women. The most amusing thing was a valuation of our worth as prostitutes
working here. I won’t tell you what mine was but Laura was declared the most
valuable out of our group of visitors. [She whispered that she’d start charging
me as a way of funding her studies!]
The old, original site was horrendous though. The corrugated
iron “stalls” just conjured up the most appalling images in my head of the
degradation and humiliation some of those early working girls must have
suffered. There were some old newspaper cuttings on display too which we
equally as fascinating as the guide. I think it might be an eye-opener for any
tourist to look at how this trade developed alongside the more legitimate means
of earning a living.
I was a bit over whelmed by desire for Laura when we left
the place but I remained calm and steadfast as we headed for our next port of
call; my brilliant idea surprise, the Adult shop in Maritana Street. I had
checked its location and had also discovered it was doing a special offer, if
you bought one sex toy from a selection you got another one free. We asked the
woman in charge about the offer and the items we could purchase. The free offer
was a version of The Rabbit, smaller than ours at home and using water based
lubricant. One of the items you needed to purchase to get the freebie was a 13”,
double ended, vibrating dildo. We naturally chose this and bought some lube too
(for the rabbit). The woman was intrigued that we knew so much about sex toys and
the like and wondered why we hadn’t brought ours across from the UK. I told her
about the embarrassment that I had anticipated if we got stopped at customs! She
then asked us if we would be interested in a lucrative side offer with toys,
she gave us a business card with the name, phone number and e-mail addresss of
an ‘adult film’ producer. I just slipped it into the bag with our goodies.
Naturally we won’t be phoning the guy’s number.
Outside we had a huge fit of the giggles at the prospect of
our lovemaking being filmed, commercially. I told Laura it just reinforced what
the madam in the Questa Casa had said, she was the most valuable commodity
there. I got whacked on the arm for that one. Plus, as a severe damper on the
proceedings she also said, “I am still on, BTW, so I don’t really fancy putting
those to good use at the moment.” Boo hoo. Back at the site I did persuade her
to use the new rabbit on me, in the interests of scientific research, which was
truly gorgeous – she made me wear a scarf over my eyes and I wasn’t allowed to
touch myself or her at all, until I came. I had the most overwhelming O and
afterwards I used my fingers to tease her love bump into giving her a really
long O too. She says should be finished by the weekend, so we can put the
double ender to good use.
Thursday 14th Aug.
I awoke in a sweat and found that my love bump was being
nibbled by a long haired blonde girl with a sylph like figure. When I opened my
eyes she smiled and used her fingers down there too. She said she thought she
had stopped and couldn’t wait until the weekend. We tried the double ender. It
bent sufficiently for us to hug face to face and push it between us [this is
something we have practised over the last year with our double ender at home,
it’s all down to vaginal muscle control]. I am not sure if we came
simultaneously but it was pretty close. We lay hugging each other and feeling
at peace with the world until, “Oh, bugger. I haven’t stopped after all….” We
had a mop up, a bundling up of the sheet (for washing) and a giggle and I was
so delighted that I had been able to inspire my girl to overcome one of her
major taboos, without actually having to do any persuading. She did it herself
because she wanted me!
After using the site’s showers [much better than wetting
through the camper’s one, plus the 17 litre hot water heater needs refilling
after one shower] we had brekkers and then set off for the drive down to
Esperance. It is nearly 200 Km to Norseman where we stopped for a swift snackerino
and then took a look at where the National Route to Adelaide sets off across
the country. It is still a hell of a way to the state boundary from here. We
then continued down the road to Esperance, it was another couple of hundred Km
down to the sea. About three hours later we saw the Southern Ocean and the many
islands dotted about in the huge bay. I drove us into the centre and stocked up
with more supplies then headed out to the same caravan site I went to with the
girls last year. This is on the eastern edge of town and is in walking distance
back into the place.
After a swift cuppa, before the night fell, we sauntered
into town so we could have a proper look at the Bay of Isles from the
promenade. I pointed out the signage for the boat trips out into the bay and we
decided, weather permitting, to do the full day version of the one I had done
with the girls. We checked what was on at the cinema too and then headed back
to the site for our meal and a listen to some music through the vans CD player
(and my memory stick) before hitting the charp. Driving such long distances is
very tiring, maybe I am just getting old…
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