Martin has an unholy affinity for going on "cottage trips". He likes to find a place in the middle of nowhere, go there and park himself for as long as he can get away with it. I think he was a bush man loner in a previous life. As long as there's ample wine, wifi and a supply of books I'm perfectly happy with this arrangement. Add a few good friends into the equation and I am doubly happy!
For some damn reason it was decided that 3 couples needed to take 3 separate cars to our humble little cottage located just outside Beaudesert, Queensland.
As we arrived first our first order of business was to start a fire, this being inland in the dead of winter and the fireplace being the only heat source in the whole house.
Gotta love him for trying, but let's just say I'm glad the fate of our family does not rest on Martin's fire building skills. It was.....not successful. But hey! He can fix a computer or any other technological problem I encounter, which is far more useful in the 21st century. So I don't want him to read this and feel bad about his lack of skillz.
We settled in to our cozy cottage and after much food and beverage played a little game called Cards Against Humanity. If you haven't heard of this glorious card game, this sums it up nicely:
There's something about being out in the country that puts you to bed before 10 p.m., which is precisely what we did after a few bottles of soul-warming wine and a few LOL-inducing rounds of Cards Against Humanity. We had business to attend to the next (eerily foggy) morning.
One of the major selling points of this farm stay is the animals, and your ability to interact with them. Besides a big, fat nap (another demand of mine on these cottage trips) animal feeding was my big plan for the day.
We fed various barnyard residents:
We didn't feed it, but we....umm....saw this horse.
God I'm immature. You could ride horses for a hefty sum, but that's not how I roll. I need at least two saddle bags full of Coors Light before I get on a horse.
The main event of the barnyard, the piece de resistance if you will, was this:
I milked a cow!
I've never milked a cow, or any animal for that matter, before. It was actually easier than I thought it would be, as I'd always heard there's a special technique to it. It wasn't hard, true, but if I had a row of cows to milk, and only my hands to do it with, I would swan dive off the hay loft. Milking cows is never ending, relentless work (my mother has always warned me) so my preppy white, first world ass pays for the novelty!
The best part of milking a cow?
Delicious, fresh, piss warm milk! Seriously, it was the tastiest and creamiest milk I've ever had but it was petty gross drinking it warm knowing where it came from mere seconds earlier.
We went to the nearby creek and attempted fishing, rather unsuccessfully I might add.
Well, others fished while I laid down on the river bank, curled up into a ball and took a nap. Our lack of success might be due to the fact that the bait used on the fishing line was canned corn. Seriously!
Look at the scenery. Doesn't it look not like Australia?
That's the hinterland (or inland area) for you.
We used that fireplace for the one reason it was invented:
Sweet, sweet s'mores! Fun, sad fact: Graham crackers don't seem to exist outside of North America. That's probably why s'mores are unheard of elsewhere, which is a damn shame.
Naps + wine + s'mores = I could get used to this country bumpkin lifestyle!