And now to relax with Col and Sandy. They've asked their next door neighbours in for dinner—Henry and Shirley used to live in Mudgee and our daughter Tracy and Shirley's daughter Lyndall were best friends. We talk about Mudgee wines and ageing. If only we kept getting better like a good red. Wednesday morning non-stop on mobile with Telstra, Apple, and NRMA. Yes it is password protected. Despite all the pressing buttons and holding—Telstra and NRMA were helpful and did all they could.
Barry and Col growing old disgracefully |
There were pre-sunrise walks on Hawks Nest beach and watching the kids on hobi-cats in Port Stephens—years later finding out it was shark riddled.
We sit and natter for hours and Col takes us for a drive around our old haunting grounds.
Thursday we had crispy fish and chips overlooking the entrance to the Myall Lakes in idyllic weather—ignoring the pelicans looking for a free feed from Hook N Cook.
Taree Rest Stop |
Trish Tracy and Shane Sandy Hollow Tunnel 1975 |
The caravan park pool was empty because of the drought. After we unpacked we drove miles to find a beach for the kids to swim. I was exploring the rocks when I heard Trish yelling. I swung around too quickly, slipped in my wet thongs, and cut my feet badly on oyster shells. The kids had been attacked by sea lice. Stings covered in calamine lotion, and cuts dressed, we were ready to go for fish and chips. Nana came back from her walk with a kilo of devon for us and a few slices of ham for her. ‘I don’t like devon,’ she said.
Kids at Big Brother |
Last night at dusk, Barry and I arrived at the Jacaranda Caravan park. We'd stopped to pick up the new Ipad at Laurieton and discovered the Piggly Wiggly butcher is still there. Armed with their famous 'wissoles' and some wine for tea we begin to set up. He starts unhooking the van while I walk around the back to plug in the power. Next thing I'm yelling. My eyes focussed on the power pole looking for number 34 I didn't see the pothole. The park owners brought a pillowcase full of ice and I sobbed, leg in the air, while Barry set up. He said I'd do anything to get a story for the blog. I kept saying I'm so sorry as I knew he was exhausted. Afterwards I decided to do a Pollyanna 'glad game': it could have been so much worse than a swollen and bruised knee and elbow. In sympathy, the clouds burst open and I tossed and turned al night to the beat of the rain.
I'm reading your blog backwards Rae. Sorry to hear you were bruised and battered, you're being severely tested on your 'excellent adventure'!
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