Oz’s House of the Evil Dead

Dear lord why is Australia so far away from everywhere else. This post will chronicle the epic journey from Melbourne to Reykjavic, prepare yourselves for a tale so epic, they may even make it into a computer game for Uwe Bol to turn into a crappy film.

It all started on a lovely evening in Melbourne, it was a balmy 12deg outside, a little bit of drizzle, pretty normal for the end of winter. After suffering through the constant heart attacks of allowing my night (and most days) blind father to drop me off at the airport, I made my way to check in, drop off my bags and get my boarding pass.

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