Beach Bum

We went up the coast today to scout out potential off-leash walks for the dogs. These Aussies are doggy fascists unfortunately and you can only let your dogs off the lead in designated places. Good grief!

We went up the coast from Sandgate through Brighton and Margate, would you believe, and Redcliffe and Scarborough. Then up to Deception Bay and the Bribie Island.

It wasn't really til we got to Bribie Island that we found a nice beach to walk the pooches on. But it was very nice, we spent a good hour and a half there. Tiny went swimming but didn't really cope very well with the waves, and Matilda amused herself in the undergrowth. Eloise went super-commando and was prancing up and down the beach as naked as the day whe was born. We walked back as the sun was setting and drove back, stopping opposite the restaurant we had eaten at earlier to watch the sunset, when I took the picture at the top.

I was completed cream crackered so Nicole drove back. We reckon it was an hour's drive, so a little bit further than Rendlesham would have been back in Suff, but worth it on a weekend?

It's really nice to see that Eloise and the dogs are getting on so well after their time apart. She beams when she sees them for the first time in the morning and has them chase her, teasing them with food. She gives them cuddles and strokes. Tiny
goes so far as not to walk away in contempt now, and has even stopped growling when Eloise tries to show her affection.

Along with the title of the post I was going to put on a photo of E butt naked on the beach, but thought better of it for some reason.

In the Kingdom Of The Blind

....the One Eyed Man is King.

No sooner had Nicole returned to work at 6.30 in the morning this Tuesday that I decided it would be a great idea to clean my glasses. After doing this I had half a pair of glasses.

You might think this a minor inconvenience if you don't know the extent of my blindness. When I first started to have to wear glasses at the age of ten or so I was so embarrassed that I would refuse to do so, and wandered around in a permanent world of fuzz where anything further away from my face than eighteen inches or so could only really by described as a fizzy area of colour.

That feeling came back in trumps.

I was forced into emergency action and managed by putting my glasses - glass, really - on, and closing my left eye, to locate some superglue. You might envisage that superglueing a lens back into a broken frame would be a delicate operation, and you would be right. Envisage though what this would be like if there was a excited, curious baby, and two excited curious (and hungry) dogs hanging around like bears around honey and picture the scene.

So I got myself into a condition where I could at least get myself to an optician and $400 later, I have ordered a (yes Mum) bendy memory stuff set of glasses - which won't arrive til next Monday. Marvelous.

Eloise nutted me one in Zone Fresh and knackered the glasses again on Wednesday, what a hilarious check out procedure that was; and driving home with the left lens actually balanced in the frame was a tad precarious. Further supergluing ensued.

So I'm limping through on a wing and a prayer.

I do have a spare pair, but they are held together with sellotape. I think that says it all. The answer is probably contact lenses. No, the answer is almost certainly contact lenses.

Home Stretch

Not much to say... woke up, went for a little walk... the wind had died down and the sky was overcast. There were ducks and llamas in the grounds, which made for an interesting experience from my end of the lead. In the river which lapped gently against the shores, a dolphin was ambling around, and a pelican came in to land.

Breakfast was delivered to our room, and we ate it fairly quickly then left.

We drove up to Nambucca Heads itself where the wind was still quite strong and blowing some surf in off the Ocean proper. On the way back to the Highway we called in at a petrol station and actually had our tank filled by a one-armed pump attendant, which hadn't happened to either of us for a very long time - regardless of the dexterity of the filler.

The drive up went reasonably uneventfully. We soon stopped at a Forest Park whose name I don't remember and walked a little "Stretch Your Legs" trail where I stretched Eloise's legs while the dogs stretched Nicole's. We later stopped at a beach at Lennox Heads to walk the dogs properly. We were on pretty safe ground with the dogs as the weather wasn't great and there wasn't anyone around. The wind had picked up again and got progressively worse until we were getting sandblasted and Eloise started to look like she'd been coiffured by the Devil.

We had lunch at Byron Bay in a nice fish restaurant and pressed on. Before long, after driving past a giant Banana and a giant Shrimp, we were back in QLD and on the home strait.

Before long we were back home, and very relieved to be so. I thought Sproggy did very well to do what was basically four days of driving with very little bad humour, though I suppose I should thank some mystery being for her being unable to say "Are we nearly there yet?"

The dogs didn't sleep in our bed that night. They did wake us up at five o'clock though. The buggers.

Pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/neil.r.gavin/AnimalLiberation

Fiends Reunited

We got up fairly early, I seem to remember, and set about packing everything up. We were
excited about our impending reunification, Nicole very vocally so, I in my own way. There was an incident of appalling parenting where at one point Eloise evaded scrutiny and decided to visit the playground on the opposite side of the thankfully quiet road, solo. Whoever left that gate open....

After a little to-ing and fro-ing we were off on our way, with Gary leading as he knows his way round. Soon we were outside the gates to the Australian Quarantine and Importation Service Eastern Creek Reception Centre, on the phone desperately trying to get in... and eventually the gate started to creak aside like it was a State Penitentiary or something.

In reception there was a man arguing with an official over some bureacratic detail which hadn't been explained to him or which he hadn't got right or something; our hearts started to sink - what techicality would they get us on? But when it came to us through we breezed and off we went to Row 6 of the Dog Compound, where there was absolutely no-one waiting for us.

After a minutes though Candice turned up and soon we were frolicking in the corridor with our doggies, who were quite excited to see us, and then leads were on and we were marching to freedom with the barks and yowls of the still incarcerated echoing around us.

After what can only be termed a "stretch of the legs" at the end of which thankfully the dogs came back we bade our farewells and headed back up the Pacific Highway. The dogs soon established seating positions - Matilda in the footwell, Tiny at Eloise's side.

The drive went smoothly up the Highway, no false moves or wrong turns. We breezed up by Hornsby and Newcastle.

First stop was at Keruah by a lake where we had the most well-meaning but appalling service at a roadside café. The heat was building up though there was a stiff breeze, and we ate with the dogs tethered to our bench. Eloise got quite excited and we were all happy to be all together again.

Eventually my chips turned up ("Sorry!") but they weren't cooked so the dogs got most of them (I was full up after my pizza anyway) then eventually after a reminder my coffee turned up ("Sorry! Keep the mug!") but that was lukewarm and disposed of down the gullet in seconds. Then we were off again with the plan to find a place to walk the dogs properly and get to Port MacQuarie.

Now the thing about me that some of you may know is that although I disrespect authority I tend to wish not to confront it, and generally speaking am not so very good (or am I) at estimating the likelihood of such confrontation occurring should rules be broken. Nicole is not so encumbered by obsequious obedience. Is that a diplomatic way of putting it? Apparently I am a drama queen. Oh well.

In the light of that, it was quite a while before we found a beach where we could actually walk the dogs but the beach that we found after detouring from the Pacific on a Tourist Drive, was beautiful.


It was heading towards dusk and a mist was forming on the edge of the Pacific. The sounds of the gentle surf were very evocative. A creek flowed out of the forest and down the beach. On one side the beach led the eye away as far as it could see, on the other a little town nestled on a headland with bright cumulus overhead.

Eloise was wearing her new "I Do All My Own Stunts" T-shirt and took the slogan literally, paddling with the dogs in the fast-flowing creek and having a whale of a time, even after falling over into the water - needless to say her mood improved further when the nappy went and she could run and climb around freestyle. The dogs also made the most of their new found freedom gambolling around on the dunes and in the creek though they fought shy of actually surfing or anything like that.


Soon it was getting dark - rapidly - and we realised that we'd better get a move on and get to Nambucca Heads.

We got there about 8 o'clock. The wind started picking up almost as soon as we left the beach, and leaves were being blown around us quite disconcertingly. The motel lay down a palm-lined drive off the main road and was by the shore of the Nambucca River, I had read, but it was pitch black and we couldn't see anything much and certainly couldn't hear any evidence of water over the gusts of wind which were now getting very strong. We were disappointed to find that as it was Sunday there was no food laid on so we hot-footed it back into Macksville where we got takeaway Chinese which we ate watching crap TV... then crashed. Needless to say the dogs slept on the beds. Shameful.

Day of Rest

Thursday night's drive had bought us time to spend the day in Sydney before picking up the dogs tomorrow first thing. Everybody apart from me - I'm immune to that sort of thing - was terminally woken up to what appeared to be minor hangovers by Eloise locating the loft opening stick and throwing it to the ground to maximum acoustic effect.

We lounged for a good part of the morning, and Eloise spent the morning chasing the cat around, who didn't really seem to appreciate it, and scaling their drawer unit to the fishbowl which was quite out of the way, but not far enough for our little explorer. We (Nicole, Julie and I) then left Gary with the sleeping Eloise and went onto the local Newtown high street to a coffee shop to have breakfast. The ladies failed to hear their phones, and we returned to find Eloise awake again only having slept for half an hour or so and confronting Gary with every man's quandary - what to do with a bawling child.

We then did what you have to do and caught a train down to Circular Quay to look at the Bridge and the Opera House, which were still there. We wandered around for a bit and watched a Ricky Gervais sound-a-like complaining about the British, yeah, then doing some stunts on his bike with a chainsaw, right? He probably thought he was a chilled out entertainer. We then let the sprog loose to see what she'd make of the Aboriginal Didgeridoo Techno Trance music. She didn't dance, but did wander up to get a good look at the funny bloke with the dark skin and white paint blowing into the huge chocolate straw.

She did however make friends with a donkey which was inexplicably standing there by the harbour side, doing precisely nothing, with a small box into which we were presumably supposed to put money. The Monkey found this fascinating, I'm sure she'd rumbled that there was a bloke inside, especially when the ear came off, but she didn't let on for a minute.

The sun was getting quite strong so we caught the train back - Gary got a different train and struck some poses for the camera from across the rails, but frankly none of them are fit for publishing.

We walked down Newtown high street, and stopped at a shop where we bought some hammocks like the one G+J have on their verandah. I think Nicole had this planned all along. We also got some baby clothes, of which more later no doubt.

Then back to the pad where we had some visitors for a barby supper. Ed and Christina came round about five thirty. Ed went to college with Nicole, although I don't think they really remembered each other. He also by some amazing small-world coincidence went to school with a certain James Gavin, although they certainly don't remember each other (well James might I suppose). Yes it turns out Ed is an Ipswich boy and went to Holy Joe's, sailed at Waldringfield, etc etc.

So the barbie was very nice, there was lots of it, that Peacock seems to know his way around food... or a supermarket...

We retired around midnight. There was a certain amount of inebriation in the air.

Sydneython Day Two

Day two began with emotions running high as I tried to get over the embarrassment of last night's motel debacle, and failed.

We had breakfast, where Eloise was full of figurative beans.

Then off driving via the local shops onto the New England Highway, picking up the Thunderbolts Way at Urala. The scenery was very pleasant, rolling pastures punctuated by gum trees, with mountains in the distance. We were glad not to have come this way on the return trip as the dogs may have had difficulty remaining calm in the face of the sheep, cattle, horses etc. Nicole commented that it was like Scotland, without the rain.

We stopped off at Walcha to pick up petrol which was a little town nestling in the hills. Although it was quite sunny and we were expecting to open the car door to noticeable heat actually it was quite cool outside. Probably a result of Walcha sitting on a tableland and consequently being at reasonably high elevation.

The Thunderbolts Way soon started to wind up and down hills and became quite exciting. The scenery became quite breathtaking with the road hugging the steep slopes of the hills, with beautiful trees lining the sides.

We stopped at a lookout point and sent some time there. It was quite hazy but you could see for a very long way nevertheless. A layby was equipped with some covered benches and an enclosed toilet which was amusing to tiddle into as you could look straight down the khazi into a pit about twenty feet down below, which had to compete with chasing fags around the pub urinal for toilet time amusement.

A fence sealed us off from a steep dive into the valley below along which ran a little track then up the other side to the view you can see pictured on the left. Not a soul was in sight.

After a while the obligatory Ute pulled up, then a car with a dog with which Eloise was soon making friends. Pretty soon it was time to move on.

The road continued through the hills and down into valleys where it would cross over picturesque little creeks on little bridges. We Oohed and Aaahed. Eloise Yabbayabbayabbaed.

Descending from the hills eventually we wound up at Barrington, then Gloucester where we stopped and had some food and drink and changed nappies etc. Then on again picking up Bucketts Way.

After a while I fell asleep (Nicole was driving!) and when I woke up to Nicole's cry of confusion and fear we were in the middle of the Pacific Highway, turning across a lane of traffic onto the most confusing, un-signposted junction I have ever woken up to. Luckily Nicole thought quickly and got us onto the road but it was an absolutely terrifying moment!

The Pacific Highway took us down past Newcastle across yet more views and was sometimes literally cut out of increasingly steep crags with bridges crossing over seemingly hundreds of feet above us.

It became clear that we were entering metropolitania and so we tried to follow Gary's directions and were fine until we got to the Sydney Harbour Crossing where we got into the wrong lane and ended up cruising through an electronic toll - without the requisite electronic tag - straight into the Sydney Harbour Tunnel. Ooops.

Frustration began to mount as the map we had was not the best, and the driver was urgently in need of relief variety number one. The navigator however managed to locate and direct to the residence of Mr Gary Peacock and Ms Julie Seldon, and we knocked on the door to find.... nobody in.

So we took Eloise over to the little playground over the road, Nicole in an increasing state of panic over the imminent inundation of her panties, and phoned Julie who arrived two minutes later.

We admired their house and breathed a sigh of relief to have completed our journey, and drank ate and chatted our way towards bedtime.

Animal Liberation: Phase One

It seems like a long time ago now. On the day of the Sydneython we rose early - six o'clock - to take Mrs G into work so that we could pick her up later on and embark straight away on the Odyssey. Somehow I can never get used to being awake at that time in the morning, and frankly it's all a little hazy.

I do remember: raisin toast, hot air balloons, radio not working in the car, alternative approach to the hospital.

Nicole safely transported, we headed home and things continue to be hazy. A certain amount of packing was done, and attempts were made to resolve the radio situation.

When embarking upon a trek the staggering proportions of which were beginning to dawn fully on me, it is a Useful Thing in the allaying of boredom and fatigue to be able to listen to Radio 4. Failing that, it is a Useful Thing to be able to listen to the local alternative, which in this case is a station called ABC National, which is much the same as 4 but without the preoccupation with far too regular news delivered in clipped English tones and without the comedy, which is a pity - probably. There's the odd interesting programme on it anyway.

So annoying it is that, when changing the car battery yesterday, the radio re-initialised itself and now required a code to be entered in order to function. Not wishing to guess, I busied myself with trying to find some evidence of what the code might be amongst the vehicular documentation and phoned the garage that sold the car originally. They hung up on me accidentally, and I spent half and hour thinking I was on hold when I was in fact listening to the shell-like ambience of my own outer ear. When I phoned back they told me they didn't know what the code was, but that it should be written on the back of the radio. Not wishing to embark on that potential DIY catastrophe, I phoned the garage that did the last service. They told me that the garage that originally sold the radio should know the code and that taking those radios out is complicated, and that no, the code wouldn't be written on the back anyway.

Brilliant.

So on the back of that we went shopping, and bought a handheld radio to keep us sane riding through the FM stations, the tumbleweed, the petrol stations (will all aboard this Yankee station prepare themselves for battle stations).

Also we got some doggy futons, and ordered some dog beds, and got snacked up.

Packing packing packing. Then some more packing. A bit of sleeping, then some packing. Some useful advice came over the airwaves via text message then it was time to go. So, punctual as punctual things we pitched up at the hospital and picked up Nicole ready to go. Then turned the wrong way out of the hospital and were instantly lost.

Magnificent navigation overcame my hotheaded mistake and we were back on track for Ipswich, racing on through the sluggish traffic like a mid-ranger in a go-slow bike race.

The first leg completed at Warwick at 6.30 or so, as it was getting dark. We decided to try to locate a place to eat. We found a nice cosy Italian restaurant and got them to switch their lights on and stoke up the cooker. We waved our arms to the three tenors, as identified by Nicole. Sounds more like Rene and Renato to me.

After the meal Nicole changed E into her pyjamas. She had her shoes on to walk to the car. The first fashion mistake of many I imagine. There was some sort of cavalcade of classic (ancient?) cars going on outside with jazz music, it was quite nice on a balmy night. But we had spent an hour and a half there and needed to be in Armidale at some sort of reasonable hour.

Nicole drove the next leg which took us through Tenterton, and Glen Innes (pictured, left) where we stopped for a coffee. The driving is tedious as it's dark and we pass through blink-and-you-miss-them towns, blinking. I derive my entertainment by attempting to tune the radio I spent $24 on earlier that day to a station it will keep track of for more than two minutes. Apart from a spot in the middle of the FM dial that's reliably completely silent - is it subliminal programming? The only reliable station is some dodgy rural AM station whose host complains about pinko lefties and how pot smoking should be punishable by death. The highlight of the night is Hungy Like the Wolf by Duran Duran... or was that a different life... Anyway eyes on the prize - Armidale only an hour away, and we've climbed quite far. It's pretty chilly and I'm wishing I packed my long trousers... and Eloise is not a happy bunny having been in a child seat for the last two hours straight and six hours really, very tired.

So onwards into Armidale, where we arrived around 11.30. We attempted to navigate to our Motel, but it was difficult because our map printouts were very faint and it was the middle of the night. We guess the route, and pass many motels on the way. Eventally we recognised our street and pulled up at the establish to which we are headed. We parked outside our room - the proprietor having informed me the other day that he would leave it open for us - and note that the door wasn't open. Furthermore we note that a television was clearly on, inside; though we couldn't see it through the drawn curtains, we could hear it through the now obviously locked glass door, along with what sounded suspiciously like the snoring of the clinically obese.

Oh, shit.

Thinking I may have mis-remembered the room number, I jiggled a couple of other nearby doors... and was greeted at one with an apparently naked Bruce holding a curtain to his succulents asking blearily "Did someone just try to get into my room?" But no open rooms.

Ohhh, shit.

So a phone call to reception, who I wasn't expecting to be there. However there was an answer, and a half-asleep man who said he was working relief came down to inpect the book and confirm what I suspect already - the bastards haven't got us booked in at all.

Thank God for the Best Western Cattleman's Motor Inn, whose last room we took ten minutes later. It was the first alternative we tried. We collapsed into bed, exhausted, and very pissed off.

Here endeth the first day.

Chug Chug

Got up this morning - performed ablutions. Swept floor of dining room which was resplendent with pasta, rice, cheery-ho-ho-hos and other assorted food matter ("Why didn't you hoover" says Nicole later. "Because we swept" said I).

With all this the little tyke was getting impatient to go out. She signalled this by firstly climbing into her pram, then looking at me meaningfully, whilst saying "Ugh!" and then tugging on the car door, then looking at me meaningfully, whilst saying "Ugh!" Her language skills are definitely coming on.

So I eventually relented, and opened up the car door, and in she climbed, though she made it pretty clear that she wasn't too happy about getting in the back in cattle class. She signalled this by tugging on the front door handle, then looking at me meaningfully.

Keys in the ignition - check. Immiboliser tweaked - check. Foot on clutch - check. Engage engine! Chug chug chug clickclickclickclick.

Do I hear the sound of an engine firing into life?

No.

Thoughts spring to mind, such as: oh my god, did I fill it up the other day with the right kind of petrol? Is it some terminal problem? When I opened up the bonnet to check the oil levels etc (yes I really did that) did I jog something, maybe dislodge a nut or brush against a widget which has caused the car to cease functioning? Will RACQ come out, will I need to call out a mechanic, will it be fixed in time for the Sydneython? Will it be safe to drive on the Sydneython? Will we need to hire a car? Can we wing dogs in a hire car?

To cut a long story short I phoned the RACQ and after a little farting around (their records were in Cate's maiden name) they came out within 20 mins and a nice South African bloke diagnosed a dud battery, flogged me a new one, fitted it and off we went to buy dog beds.

We got dog futons. Posh! As if.

When Nicole got back we took a bike ride down to a park over Kalinga way, Melrose Park I think it's actually called. Eloise had great fun on the swings, the slides, the see-saws, the button lift thingy, and so did Nicole. So did I in fact. We met a woman who had blessed her child with the name "Ignacious." Which was nice... if wrong.

We set off and got back just as darkness was descending.

I have booked the accomodation for the Sydneython. We are staying in Armidale on the way down and Nambucca Heads on the way back.

We're looking forward to liberating the dogs from the totalitarian bureacrats who have forced them into bondage and incarceration. I spoke to Candice, one of the totalitarian bureacrats, today. She seemed like a very nice lady.

Jacaranda

Here are some more pictures showing unhappy or comatose animals at the zoo.

We were up when the sparrows got their second wind after Nicole's hilarious mobile-phone-as-alarm-clock time zone confusion. For a while I thought it was going to be panic stations and a mercy run to the hospital but she was OK in the end. Maybe I should get a flashing light so we can blue light it into town should we need to. On the other hand, maybe I should get some dog beds.

E had me up and about by 7.30 or so, so we bunged on ABC and vegged in front of TV rubbish while waking up. All I can say is these Wiggles - whoever they are - really disturb me, and seem to have some kind of vice like hold on Oz. They think they can wave their fingers around and get away with it, how can they be so sure?

We Cheery ho-ho-hoed for breakfast then, by crikey, I did some hoovering down below (now now). Subliminally I think I have been thinking about hoovering for a while now, maybe related to the vacuum in my life previously occupied by work, or the vacuum in Nicole's life previously taken up by cooking, or could it be the build up of dirt on the floor... who knows. Eloise seems to have worked out the attachments, for after de-fluffing the brushy bit on the long thing that you rub on the ground which makes the dirt disappear, I came back and there she was holding out the dingly dangly tentacle thing that comes out of the bubbly bubbly ground hugger, indicating that I should connect the two, and squawking.

We then spent a delightful half hour driving the tuk-tuk as well as generally moving irrelevant things around, pointing at the sky, spying on neighbours and passers-by, and peeling dried paint off the drive with our fingernails. Beats watching it dry in the first place I suppose. Maybe. It did beat putting the Napisan (sp?) into the nappy bucket for a while. Perhaps that was the point.

All of which was killing time before going to the library, on the way to which there was no magpie action whatsoever. At the library, as it's Tuesday, there was story telling action, but - oh my god - it seems to have been nothing but a repeat of Friday! Same themes, same books, same songs (Bananas in Pyjamas, now that's just wrong).

Mysterious smells prompted our departure after trading in our books. We are keeping a weekly balance of four at the moment.

Then off to bed for Eloise, who was completely Jacobs.

In other news, the Jacaranda tree outside the house is getting its blossoms into gear.

Anything else interesting.... Spiced Vegetable and Cashew Nut Pilau. Yum, notwithstanding the blackened cashew nuts.

Snap to the left: Agincourt Street by night. Charming.

This is What We Were Doing

This means something to somebody.