Too much excitement !

Well there has been excitement enough for all on the road, although perhaps too much for my blood pressure. Firstly, fun excitement as I travelled to Coominya, where I hired a light plane, and in the company of CFI John, flew it across the famous Wivenhoe Dam. It was interesting to be above the sluice gates, the timing of whose opening was so controversial during the flood. The aircraft was a Lightwing Sport, and although no worldbeater in the performance stakes (about the same as my Shadow, but requiring 100 HP to do what the Shadow achieves with 64 HP) it was comfortable, and felt solid and predictable, and I might have been interested in one until I heard of its price. Anyway, the flight was fun, and the scenery spectacular, and we both enjoyed staying in the picturesque Sunshine Coast hinterland. We were particularly impressed with the town of Maleny, which avoided the soporific tweeness of places like Montville, but exuded a slightly alternative feel, and provided us veggies with plenty of choices.

Secondly non-fun excitement, as we tangled with a dreaded organisation going by the name of Hocking Stuart (remember that name). We noted that the money for our rent had not hit our bank by the 15th of the month, even though it was due on the 2nd. In an email, Teck noted that he had not seen our tenants for a while. Charlie the gardener phoned, and mentioned that while trimming the hedge, he noticed that the day room had been emptied of the tenants furniture. Whats going on ? I called the estate agent, and said "What is going on ? have they done a bunk ? " I'll find out and call you back," was the response. We waited. We waited some more. I decided to be a little proactive, and phoned again, but the person responsible was busy, and would phone me straight back. She didn't . I phoned the supervisor. She was busy, but would get back to me, and by the way, have a nice day. She didn't and I didn't. I hassled the receptionist, but she said that they would not call her back either. I emailed, there was no response. I smelt a large, estate agent shaped rat, and when the message count hit 17 over 3 days, with not a single reply, hit the road bound for Daylesford, in a cloud of burning rubber (truthfully, with the hybrid equivalent of burning rubber, which consists of a slightly more annoying whine from the electric motor) Numerous stops when reception allowed, followed, without at any time talking to anyone other than the receptionist, a nice lady called Anne, who by now hated my guts. I contacted the Police, but before any action on that front, was finally called by Hocking Stuart, who said that the tenants had paid, but as a consequence of a Macquarie Bank stuff up, we would have to wait for the money. Further arguments to follow. We are presently in Coonabarabran recovering.