Early one morning, while making the rounds, I took a shot of cocaine and I – hang on, I’m not Johnny Cash, which is a relief. Instead, I put on my running shoes and did a two mile run around Margaret River. I got a bit lost and went to the top of a hill, following a trail that I tried (and thankfully failed) to make my wife walk on our first yomp into town a few days ago. At least running on my own I had nobody to suffer alongside me.
I got back, we packed up and then drove off in search of fun. First we went to a cheese depository, or dairy, or whatever you call it, and bought an enormous amount of cheddar, which sweated in the boot of the car as we drove across the country.
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