Practice, they say, makes perfect, and we've probably had enough practice to get most things right when it comes to heading off for a week or two.
There are, of course, issues, many of them relating to two furry felines who are deprived of their regular indoor comforts when we head off, and tend to display a degree of resentful disdain when we return. On this occasion, we've enlisted the help of a feline friendly volunteer and expect to return to find LikLik and Ninja are much more welcoming of strangers, having been feted with food and an appreciation of feline sensitivities over a period of just over a fortnight.
Or maybe not, but we did try.
On previous trips away we've questioned whether the hot plate on the stove has been turned off, had Hughesy fail to switch off the air-con before the cheap tariff down time kicked in, and have been known to make the odd U-turn just to make sure whatever concern has just been raised has, in fact, been addressed.
Each time we do that, of course, we find another thing to add to the pre-departure checklist, and repeated practice has delivered a routine that should ensure all eventualities have been covered.
That was the way it seemed, anyway. Both of us threw in minor suggestions that were met with a checked that from the other side, and it gave us something to do on a two hundred kilometre leg that has been done so often that there's practically nothing short of a major disaster that would provide anything out of the ordinary to remark on.
And we don't want major disasters, do we?
That doesn't mean there's nothing in the pipeline as far as things to comment on are concerned.
As usual we hit the shortcut just south of Ayr, where I was again foiled in my desire to have us pull over so I can get a photo of the sign advertising an entity called Ayr Boring Company.
When I've got the image I've got the caption (The conversation's not that much better on the other side of the river either) to go with it.
The short cut isn't that much shorter, but avoids traffic issues in downtown Ayr, and for the past year or so has delivered the added advantage of avoiding much of the road work going on to the north of Brandon.
For a good year before that it skirted past roadworks to the south of Brandon as well.
Those concerns delivered what amounted to a trouble free run from Bowen through Townsville.
We got a chance to liven things up with a momentary panic when Hughesy's reading glasses went missing after we'd checked the air pressure in the tyres at the Servo near the Townsville race course, but that resolved itself when they dropped out of my shirt.
We took the ring road after refuelling, and were crossing Ross River shortly after ten thirty, having left Bowen just before seven forty-five.
It was, as indicated, a clear run through, with a minor delay at the roadworks just north of Brandon, and things continued in the same vein as we headed towards Ingham.
We identified the scene of the accident that could have been infinitely worse on the last trip to Cairns, sailed through Ingham and over the Cardwell Range and were pulling up outside the Vivia Cafe in Cardwell shortly after twelve fifteen.
The Vivia has been the standard stop in Cardwell for a while now, and that's not likely to change after a minor incident last time we were passing that way. Somewhat shaken by the accident we'd just been involved with, I'd failed to notice my mobile drop out of the lap when we pulled up in Cardwell.
It ended up in the gutter, where the management of the Vivia had found and held onto it.
Next morning, not realising what had happened, we tried the usual trick when you can't locate the mobile.
Call it and wait for the ring tone.
That didn't work, because we were in Mission Beach and the phone was in Cardwell.
The attempt resulted in a call back from Cardwell. When we got home I found a message on the answering machine as well.
So we got the phone back, and the very least we can do in the way of thanks is to call in for a meal when we're passing. This time the meal amounted to a Tex wrap for Hughesy, crab sangas for Madam, and a couple of coffees.
We were back on the road before one, having bought the loop that will hold the reading glasses around the neck, and preventing a repetition of the servo incident in Townsville on the way up.
On the leg between Cardwell and Cairns the only item of note was the discovery that Hughesy's new iPad, with WiFi rather than 3G technology, lacks GPS capability, which is a pity since I was looking at it as a navigation aid in Japan.
We might still be able to use it in cases where we've got access to WiFi along the way, but the lack of the helpful blue dot indicating your actual GPS-located position limits the value as a navigational aid, and on that basis it looks like the old model will still be in use when we're travelling in Oz.
There were a couple of minor delays on the highway north of Tully, and we found ourselves rolling into the main conurbation at Cairns just after three.
With nothing on the agenda apart from checking into the accommodation at Bay Village Tropical Retreat, we made a booking for the restaurant at seven and eventually managed to squeeze The Possum into the parking space.
You'd reckon it should be easier to get it out again in the morning, but these predictions seem to have a habit of coming unstuck.
With five hours' complimentary WiFi, we settled down to read email, checked the odd link out of there, and, having passed that particular baton over to Madam I set about jotting down the start of the Travelogue.
The complimentary WiFi came with a few quirks that seemed to prevent two devices accessing the came connection simultaneously, so a tag team approach seemed the way to go.
In any case, after the drive Madam wanted a rest before engaging in brain-related activity.
We wandered through to the Balinese restaurant on the premises that had been the motivation for making the hotel reservation, and while dinner wasn't as gobsmackingly scrumptious as it was the previous time one suspects that might have something to do with the fact there were just the two of us this time around.
Our previous visit had The Sister and The Rowdy Niece with us and was, therefore, a matter of four shared dishes between us rather than the one each thin time around.
But the food was good, the service attentive and the Mitchell Watervale Riesling the way it usually is, so Hughesy went to bed a happy camper.
