Sawtell

After we went to the Butterfly Garden and wandered around its Maze of Hopeless and Eternal Loss, we traveled to Sawtell, a little place to the South.

My telephone had mysteriously begun to receive signals from the internet this very day, a most encouraging sign, and I was able to use the Sat Nav feature to simultaneously guide us to our destination and annoy all the occupants of the car with its deeply patronising tone.

Sawtell's high street was rather charmingly decked with enormous trees which would have provided marvelous shade had the sun been shining. Signs helpfully told us that the place was named after a person called Sawtell. Another example of Australian Etymological Ingenuity.

We stopped at a restaurant for a club sandwich or suitable alternative and drank things that were tasty.

Thence to the beach, where it started to rain.

Walking on the beach with umbrellas ready

So the weather wouldn't make its mind up, requiring umberellas to be taken at all times. Clouds on the horizon but sun shining through.

Here are the girls, prior to taking most of their clothes off and stepping gingerly in for a swim.

Oh, my poor back.

Catching Up

We went away on holidays with the Slimms, spending a week in purported opulence at extravagant expense justifiable only by the sheer numbers of bodies in attendance, which I will list as: three Gavins, two Slimms, one extra, naturalised Australian Slimm, and four Peacocks.

The numbers required considerable accommodation, and several of them being children, many bedrooms were required. Coffs Harbour was the venue of choice, the Peacocks travelling from Sydney necessetating (if that's even a word) a half-way house, which even if half-way between Brisbane and Sydney was more than half-way decent.

As the luggage was lifted into the cars for the departure, I unwisely helped the Senior Slimms with their baggage, or rather helped them unwisely, as my poor lifting technique strained my back in a painful and incapacitating elastic limitation of protesting muscle, necessetating (there's that word again) a new-found role as passenger on the epic six-hour drive south into NSW.

Somewhere around the Queensland border the "Are We Nearly There Yet" catchphrase made its way to the surface, with only four hours to go.

We stopped somewhere or other for a simple road-side repast and the wind blew chillingly across the motorway though the sun was warm. Matilda pulled me and my groaning back up and down.

When we arrived eventually, guided in by Josie's clever telephone, we found the Peacocks already in residence in the sprawling mansion by the sea, flapping around in the swimming pool. Before long little Jarrah was busily taking photographs of my behind with his Mum's i-Phone. Photographs he will doubtless treasure for many years to come.

I limped after Nicole and Josie as we followed the path across the headland to a nearby beach to give Matilda a walk after the trunk-bound ordeal of the day, and to get her used to her surroundings as she would be an outside dog for our stay, a prospect which we or she did not particularly welcome.

I limped back after Nicole and Josie as we returned from dusk-laden rock-hopping next to the shingle beach with the pounding of the surf in my ears and the grim agony of a distressed musculature haunting my lumbar region.

After chin-chinning and eating supper, I got no sleep in a strange bed in a strange room with a sore back.

When the heavens opened the next day we were down on the beach admiring the double-rainbow which bridged the bay, sort of recognising that this presaged rain but in denial up to the point where the big fat raindrops started to slap onto the beach.

This beach was a different beach, closer to the house and down a set of stairs from the coastal path down across some lawn with some houses abutting. Heaven help them when the sea levels rise! This beach, perhaps I'll call it Beach One, was altogether a more sandy affair than Beach Two (in order of closeness). There was even a big palm tree to shelter under as the clouds wandered over.

Eventually we decided enough was enough, and we ran or as necessity dictated, hobbled back to the house, receiving our soaking in good grace.

Ultrasound

11 week scan today. All good, fingers crossed, pending results of Nuchal Fold analysis, whatever that is.

Eloise and Anne came along to the ultrasound and got to see little Bump wiggling around.

Thank God it isn't twins, which certain people with so-called "women's intuition" were mooting.

QScan were excellent and furnished us with a bevy of pictures, and a CD-Rom! Cool!

Double Rainbow

A wet day today in sunny Brisbane.

Early to school for Eloise's maths club, then off for a dog walk which Nicole sat out, for reasons detailed later.

Then to swimming spotting at Eloise's swimming lesson at school. She had a supply teacher today who was a familiar face - she has been one of Eloise's swimming instructors in the past. So that was a nice surprise.

I'm probably not supposed to mention the specifics of school-time antics, so suffice it to say that supervising year 2 boys getting changed is not in any way a pleasant experience.

In the afternoon I gave Nicole a lift to work then went to the optician where I had my eyes prodded mercilessly. I have a macula potential-problem which has been under supervision for a couple of years so I have to have stuff put into my eyes to dilate my pupils to allow my retina to be inspected. It makes the trip home glarey and uncomfortable as my pupils won't constrict in the bright light.

Anyway, no change on the eyes front.

I picked Eloise up from school and the heavens opened and we were soaked to the skin as we rode home. Kind of fun in a masochistic way, though Eloise isn't sufficiently advanced in the nuances of discomfort to appreciate these subtleties.

Quickly out again to dancing class, again in the pouring rain, but this time in the car, then I was off for a swim whilst she did her thing. I discharged my 1000m in, oh, half an hour or so. I was taking it easy.

On the way back from dancing we saw a double rainbow in the sky, how nice!

In other news, Nicole is pregnant. Double rainbow!

Eloise on the Microphone

The other day Eloise's class was up on stage during Assembly (or Parade as they call it) to do a presentation on poetry. They know the ins and outs of Rhyming Couplets, they say, but mention Iambic Pentameter and their eyes would glaze over.

I have reduced the ten minute presentation to a culturally significant rendition of Five Little Owls, that well-known poetic epic, plus Eloise's turn on the mike, for your viewing pleasure.

They went on to recite Five Little Ducks Went Out One Day and Did Martial Arts, but it suffered from a timing breakdown and was incomprehensible. Maybe I'll post that later.

They were all terribly nervous beforehand - they were performing in front of hundreds of kids. But they did very well.

Subnuclear Family

So for the past couple of weeks, after the departure of Nicole to perform daughterly duties in Blighty after the passing beyond of her grandfather, Eloise and I have been going solo.

This has presented its challenges - behavioural, emotional, punctual, logistical - but with some help from friends we have muddled through.

School days were made a little longer and complicated by the Requirement to Skype at start and end, and by Eloise's decision to attend Reading and Maths Club before school, so we have struggled to get ourselves (read herself) ready to go and on the bike and there for 7.45am.

After-school activities have not been compromised either so the day has been ending between 4.30 and 5 each day.

This has meant certain fatigue problems, and with the advent of homework, the continuation of home reading and the occasional wash, well, it's been busy.

Which isn't to say that we haven't been missing Nicole, but there just hasn't really been time to express it.

So fatherly faux-pas have included, but are not necessarily limited to, forgetting to pack lunch one day (well having packed it, forgetting to put it in the bag), which was a bit embarrassing, and that's probably about it.

And, logistically, having had some evening work, childcare has been a smidge tricky.

But on the plus side, I did manage to skive off the School Beach Party when Eloise went with Marion. I had a nice nap.

Seven

So the birthday has come around again, and this time Eloise opted for a rock climbing birthday at Urban Climb in West End down in the City.

Inspired by Ickle Daisey's birthday last year, she decided she wanted a party with kids haring up and down fake cliff faces.

All good, and easily organised.

The catering however was a different matter, and one to which Nicole as ever applied herself with aplomb and devotion, taking Rock as her theme, as you might expect.

We had Rock Candy, aka crystalised sugar sticks, crystalising all week, Rock Scones, Rockmelon, Popcorn Pebbles, and of course le piece de la resistance, the Mountain Cake.

Of course in Australia (as in other places, who knows?) when you have a party all of the attendees must be provided with party bags filled with cheap crap, so there was some cheap crap shopping thrown in there as well.

It was a busy day, with present opening (thanks to all who sent presents), dog walking, cake making, party bag packing, rock-candy presentation and all that guff.

And then the main event itself, three hours of rock climbing which went past in a blur of belaying, a cornucopia of climbing, a festoon of face-filling.

The nice thing was that practically all the kids (numbers were limited to ten or so this year, thanks be to the deity of your choice) had parents who looked after their belaying, so they were all at it nearly all the time, and up and down like the fabled Assyrian Empire.

And it was a hot day, so ten or so very sweaty kids by the end of it all.

We topped it off with an intimate pizza meal. Which was nice.

The next day Nicole was off on a jet plane to fulfil her daughterly role of emotional and logistical support to her mother following the timely but protracted and rather difficult passing on of Grandad Stuart.

Commiserations and condolences to her for her loss. Perhaps the coincidence of the birthday will help in the future to temper the feelings that the anniversary will bring.

Sunday Tree and Tunnel Fun

We had Hannah visit for the day today, Hannah who is Eloise's oldest and most faithful friend. They have stuck with each other through thick and thin and long and short from Nursery to school.

They are both single kids and have over the years had something of a combustible relationship, both being strong-willed, knowing their own minds, and not afraid of shall we say putting forward their views without let or hindrance.

Hannah dropped around about ten o'clock and being with us all day knew the score. The score being that certain tasks had to be completed before free time could be had. So she didn't mind when she found out that the dog had to be walked. I think she enjoys it actually.

Today we walked up the old disused railway track at Lanita Road near Camp Mountain. We started on the flat and veered up the hill on the right to loop back. Halfway up the hill a tree had fallen across the track, presumably after a recent storm.

Such an obstacle was no mere barrier to the little explorers. It was an opportunity for dangerous death defying devilry.

I spent a resigned half hour in the thirty degree heat, my forearms prickling with sweat as they worked their way up and down the tree seeing how far they could get walking and shuffling along. There was a puddle in the ditch by the side of the path, which was instantly promoted to a creek and then even to a lake, and this presented serious psychological difficulties which had to be surmounted.

Later, challenging the psychological boundaries, we visited a mysterious tunnel which disappears into the side of the hill and which we haven't dared venture far into. It's hewn from the rock and for me is a slight stoop in height but comfortable, if narrow, in width. It's dark, and as tunnels disappearing into hillsides often are for anyone who's read the Wierdstone, scary in a "who knows what could be down there" kind of way.

Hannah launched herself without a care in the world and marched down to the end, an embarrassing ten metres or so in, oblivious to the moths and the bats that started to flap around us.

"It's not scary," she stated. "I don't understand what there is to be scared of."

It bloody was scary. Bats are scary. Tunnels are scary.

“People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one.” ~Leo J. Burke

So by way of congratulations to my favourite brother and his favourite wife, on the occasion of the arrival of their daughter Erin, my new favourite niece, I offer a photograph of the other newborns we're following, the puppies from up the road.

I can't remember their names, but Eloise can.

Their growth has been prodigious.

You may have heard on the news, if you listen to news that's international in nature, that it's been raining cats and dogs in these parts, and that the floods are back in Queensland.

Not in this part, thankfully, though it did rain for a week and the Kedron Brook Floodway was once again living up to its name for a while. But no flooding here, unlike inland around Roma, Mitchell and suchlike places where inundation has been widespread.

Here, the sun is out again, and it has been hot. The Queensland Ladies call it "disgusting" when it gets a bit hot and humid, as though the Sunshine State is somehow treacherous in its delivery of summer.

The sweating aside, I kind of liked it.

Eloise was complaining about the heat on our walk today, and suggested we should air condition throughout the house. We looked on it as an exercise in mathematical education, and though she arrived at some good answers, I can't help but think that the essence of the argument escaped her.

Ironically, she was complaining of being cold later on as we perused the Aisles of Crappy Part Favours in Spotlight in the air-conditioned warehouse of household cheapery.

Nicole and I have taken up swimming whilst Eloise is doing after-school stuff. On a Monday she has a swimming lesson and we take the opportunity for a half-hour swim.

She's doing dancing three times a week now, and two of those are ninety-minute sessions so away we go to the pool and get in a quick bit of up-and-down.

A year ago I would have been, and indeed was, dismissive of the practice of swimming up and down a swimming pool, but now I'm doing it, I find it kind of meditative to watch the bottom of the pool sliding downwards and listen to the sound of bubbles rushing past the ears.

And it's nice to be outdoors doing it in a fifty-metre pool in the sun at a nice relaxed place while the nutty kids in Squad Training go hell-for-leather in the rest of the pool.

I might even start to get a little bit fit and healthy. Underweightness possibly beckons.