Kate, mum and I on a train at the museum

My last few paragraphs may seem entirely random to most readers, but the quick ones amongst you may have made a guess at the subject of my pending story of our doomed drive to Clermont.
About two thirds of the way into the hour and a quarter drive to Clermont is a plaque detailing the ownership of the farming land and the history of the area. I may have mentioned this previously in the entry I wrote describing an earlier visit to Clermont. We pulled up to have a look at this plaque and were immediately attacked by the most flies I have ever encountered in Australia. It was awful, the air was thick with them and we quickly raced back to the confines of the car for relief. However, in the short time we had the doors open, and with flies sat on our bodies as we got in, the inside of the car was buzzing with loads of the pesky insects. At this point I would like to bring into play the first paragraph of today’s story, the window. I was driving and swishing flies out of the way, and in the pandemonium forgot that the window should not be wound right down. The rest of the drive to Clermont was indeed fly free, but we arrived completely wind swept and hot. When we stopped to try and pull the window up, more flies would dive into the car and no matter how hard we tried, we could not get the window back up!