Well the road crew have arrived and are currently eating gigantic steaming plates of fried meat which poor Jason is heaving out of the kitchen by the kilo ("Oh GOD it's DISGUSTING! These sausages are OBSCENE!"). Soon the belching & groping festivities will commence; Raelene has already locked herself in her room. I almost had to give up painting the bus because of all the blokes coming over to say "Giddayloveowyergoingorright?".
Duncan is hiding in his man-cave (the room next to ours) after a crazy day rescuing broken-down tourists & fixing their cars. Having the week off is going to be interesting - I haven't been on a road or in a town for weeks now.
Living at the roadhouse is sort of like being in an open-air communal camp, or possibly a detention centre, but with more laughs. Behind our dogbox is a covered carport thing; the bus is parked alongside it, and I've turned the carport into an open air cantina with party lights & chairs etc so it's a cool hangout and my little private area. In the mornings we wander into the kitchen & have breakfast in the restaurant area, then go off to do our chores. It's fun in the late afternoon or evening to just hang out in the kitchen or the public TV area & help a bit with dishes and stuff, or watch a DVD in the man-cave.
During the day all sorts of people & vehicles arrive - huge road trains with three or four trailers, the usual motley groups of caravanners & backpackers, and usually someone unusual like the wheelbarrow guy, a cyclist or, as we got yesterday, some grey nomads using farm tractors to tow their caravans around Australia. Every once in a while you hear one of the staff yell out "BUS!!", which means that 600 people are about to emerge from the Greyhound transit bus to wreak carnage in the toilets and eat twice their body weight in sausage rolls.
Uh oh, I can hear the road crew guys barge-arseing their way out of the restaurant, time to go and hide!
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