Drove down to Brisbane (known to some by the name ‘Brisvegas’ which seemed hardly appropriate upon viewing said city, but maybe I’m missing something) to collect the felines. The whole trip ended up taking a solid twelve hours, which leaves me typing this post in a barely legible fashion. Having juggled banks and lent money for a non-existent boat and then had it deposited in a St George account from which I needed to withdraw it to hand over to it’s rightful owner (my bearded parent) I discovered that St George have about three branches in Queensland. So we had to find the Brisbane branch. Not having been to Brisbane before meant that we just drove (well, M drove, I just concentrated on turning the map upside down trying to navigate). We found the elusive branch in the middle of the city. There was no parking. None. We pulled over into a loading zone and M jumped out to hit the bank and I moved over into the drivers seat to wait. I had been there for approximately 42 seconds when a shape darted up from behind to the passenger door window, snaked an arm around to the windscreen and stuck a parking fine under the wiper!!! I was gobsmacked! Welcome to Brisbane I don’t think so. Then I was perplexed and didn’t know whether to sit there gaping like a freak or drive away quickly to avoid further financial torture. I drove away. Actually, I drove around the block eleven times until M emerged from the back, clutching the all important bank cheque. Grrr. Stupid Brisbane. We toured a few suburbs - all the houses were tres gorgeouse - all Queenslanders tarted up to various states of grandeur. We had a few hours to kill before finding the airport and sat and looked at the river for a while. Very picturesque.

The cats emerged from their trauma looking like one big multicoloured cat squashed in the corner of the cat cage. Because I am cheap I made them share the one container (thus saving about $150) - on the basis that they would be too drugged for Saf to hate Mow too much. Poor things, they were furry and trauma-laden. When they began to realise that there was still three hours to endure, they kind of lapsed into furry comas in the back seat (thank you M’s mum for lending us the new speedy modern car with cruise control - I wouldn’t own one myself, but they’re fun to borrow!).

So we left home at 6am and arrive back at 6pm, shagged out and mentholated from eating too many Minties in the car. The cats emerged from their torture chamber thankfully and were a bit dazed. Saf ate some food, though Mow is still avoiding his, but is now chasing moths quite cheerfully. They will stay inside for a week until they get comfortable, and hopefully in that time we will have built them a cat run for outside. These precautions are more for Mow as he has only ever lived in Seddon - Saf has roamed through most of my share houses and also down to Gippsland - so he should be OK, I hope.