OFF THE LEASH

Ahh, a well earned 2 week holiday. A tour of the NSW and lower QLD coast should be just the tonic for recharging the the batteries, which have of late been as reliable as that of a 5 year old iPod.

First stop, Port Stephens. A few days with the family meant the 'No Beer' policy that was tabled before the start of the holiday lasted all of three hours. As the first mouthful of Murray's Brewery Whale Ale passed my lips I began to mentally prepare for tomorrow's hangover.
Nothing could have prepared me for the overnight metamorphosis from a slight scratch in the throat to the head cold from hell.
Waking at 4am, unable to breath through nostrils full of more crap than a Reject Shop, I began blowing my nose in what became a desperate race against my mucous membranes. Production vs Distribution. Never one to back away from a fight, I just kept blowing. After every attempt to clear my nose once and for all, that squeaking and clicking noise like dolphins communicating inside your head, that signalled the fight was to rage on.

By 6am, others started to wake and join me in the living room. I resented every sideways glance. Ok. Yes. I woke up at 4am, turned on The Man Show, and abused a box of tissues. So what?

By mid-morning I was still full from breakfast. 2 instant coffees, 1 large skim cappuccino, 6 sudafed and a couple of panadeine. I would have felt even fuller, but as luck would have it, spilled my entire cooked breakfast onto the apartment floor. At this point I was seeing red. Not angry. I just think there may have been some splashback of tomato sauce from the flipping plate as it dropped.

Where to from here? I considered admitting defeat and marching my sorry arse back to bed and accept defeat.

Then I asked myself, what would Kurt Gidley do?

He'd turn up to the Knights vs Dragons game ready to give 100% to his team. So that's what I did. I headed to Ausgrid Stadium to support the boys.

Upon arriving at the stadium and finding my seat, I could smell the sickly stench of St George fans all around me. I tried to breathe though my mouth to block it out but realised I was already doing that on account of the blocked nose.

As the game starts, and my 3 year old takes a cue from the parochial home crowd to cheer his first ever "Go Knights!", I realise that my sinuses have magically cleared, clouds have parted, and the buzz of the crowd seems like angels singing. 80 minutes, and a great game of footy later, everyone walked away satisfied. The Dragons fans had their two points, and Knights fans had just enough controversy to yell 'We was robbed!'

As we pack the suitcases to move the holiday up the coast to Coffs Harbour, Aidan becomes distraught at the thought that our holiday is over. At that point we explained that Port Stephens was holiday number one, and there was four more holidays before we had to go home. That's right son, FIVE holidays! Five holidays in two weeks? What were we thinking? But I'll get to that later.

Until holiday number two.