We’ve pressed pause on the travels for a few days and rolled just a few kilometres down the road to Beeliar, settling in close to family for Christmas. It feels a bit strange to be “home but not home,” still living out of the van and half in holiday mode, but there’s something comforting about being near familiar faces at this time of year.

For now, the adventure takes a gentle breather. The big miles can wait — there are grandkids to squeeze, too much food to eat. Lets see what the new year brings.

A big thank you to Ross and his team at Aus West Auto Electrical.

A week out from Christmas — arguably the busiest time of year for most businesses — our electrical system gave up the ghost. Thankfully, Ross and the crew swooped in and had us up and running again in quick time, and for a very reasonable price. Couldn’t be happier with the service.

As expected, things don’t always go to plan.

Tonight finds us sitting in semi-darkness after the battery system on the Mobi decided to throw in the towel. I’ve checked every fuse I can find, but once I start following the wiring, it quickly turns into what looks like a bowl of spaghetti — and about as easy to understand.

The end result? No fridge, no water pump, and only half our lights. The good news is that we still have air-conditioning and cooking facilities, so we’re hardly roughing it and will survive the night quite comfortably.

Tomorrow will be spent hunting down an auto electrician, though being this close to Christmas doesn’t exactly improve our odds. Still, this is all part of the adventure — plans change, patience gets tested, and stories get written.

Having been here for a few weeks now, we’re starting to earn the trust of the locals. Every afternoon at tea time there’s a familiar line-up — quendas, pigeons, wagtails and skinks, all waiting patiently for their share. Even the kookaburras are getting braver by the day, watching closely and edging ever nearer.

Coogee Beach this evening.

After two lovely weeks house- and dog-sitting in Melville, we’re back in the Mobi for another four weeks of van life. After that? Who knows! By then, Christmas will be just around the corner, and I’ll be saying my final farewell at work — probably with a grin wide enough to qualify as a safety hazard.

Right now, we’ve parked ourselves near one of Western Australia’s many world-class beaches. And no, that’s not just hometown bias talking — they really are some of the best beaches on the planet. White sand, turquoise water, sunshine… what more could you want?

Well, maybe slightly fewer sharks. Because as it happens, this is prime “Jaws” season, so I’ll be admiring the view from a safe and sensible distance — preferably behind a large coffee and some shade. Debbie, of course, might be braver… or just more easily tempted by a paddle.

For now, we’re happy just winding the clock down, soaking up the sea breeze, and getting used to calling the Mobi “home.” The real adventure is right around the corner — and this little warm-up lap isn’t a bad way to start.

It began, as all good mysteries do, with good intentions and mild apprehension. We’d agreed to house- and dog-sit for friends while they were off gallivanting overseas. Lovely house, nice area — except for one small detail: the mozzies. On previous visits, we’d been treated like an all-you-can-eat buffet by the local mosquito population, so this time we came armed with sprays, coils, and long sleeves.

What we hadn’t factored in was the household’s newest security system — a dog with the reflexes of a fighter pilot and the appetite of a frog. The moment a fly dared to enter the airspace, the dog sprang into action, snatching the intruder mid-flight and crunching it with a look of triumph.

Within hours, our once-buzzy war zone was silent. Not a single winged creature dared to enter the no-fly zone patrolled by The Insect Assassin .

With the skies now clear and our blood supply intact, we retired to bed, grateful for the peace and a large, tidy room. That’s when I noticed it — the sock drawer beside the bed, half open. Odd, I thought. I could’ve sworn I’d closed it earlier when we unpacked. No matter. I shut it again and turned in.

Morning came, and so did the shock — the drawer was open again. “That’s strange,” I muttered. I shut it once more, firmly this time, convinced it was just my imagination. But that evening… there it was. Open again.

By day three, I’d given up trying to reason with it. If the ghost wanted the drawer open, the ghost could have it open. I wasn’t about to start a turf war with the supernatural. But of course, the next morning, it was closed.

I’m not saying anything, but I know what I saw.

We’re back in the caravan on Saturday — no drawers in there, and every cupboard has a lock. At least if anything moves on its own, I’ll know it’s not me… or will I?