Been training vipers to come for you in your sleep

I don't have time to update this with words of wisdom for two reasons:

1) I don't have much credit left
2) I am very sleepy so my words would probably be lacking in the wise-factor.

But just know this, I am alive and safe and somewhere in Melbourne's CBD. Over the last six days we have crossed 3 state borders, seen 4 gorgeous beaches and drove hundreds of kilometres (I cannot be bothered to count, so eff off). And camped. With flies and giant cockroaches that could eat babies and bonafide Ozzie blokes and shark fishers and screaming children. Today I got up at 8am when the sun made it too painful for me to stay in my tent of hot air any longer. This time last week I was working at the Argyle, making mojitos, moaning, worrying about packing and generally being staunch.

How times have changed.

I'm still staunch, so I am still the Francesca everybody knows and loves.

I know one thing though: I'm debating just 5 weeks of travelling, not 6. Because if I'm being truthful with myself, I ain't no fucking camper.

Check Facebook for the photos, they are swish. Off for cocktails.



(No Jager for over a week. I miss thee, cruel mistress.)