The day began with M and Ian putting the final touches to the kitchen and attaching the rangehood above the stove. It just brought everything up to a new level of vogue-living. I am going to miss walking barefoot on floorboards after this [sob].

In my head I still had unfinished business in Bangalow. When J and I visited the other day, it was just too hot to poke around much. I wanted to hit the op-shop and see the park with the waterhole. M insisted on driving me, even though he was becoming more and more allergic to driving - something to do with both the hired Barina and the fact that he is so used to driving four minutes to his boat shed that anything else prompts groaning. Sigh.

But anyway, we got to Bangalow with the help of Ian’s informative mud map:

There was a little farmer’s market on, and this led us through to a big secondhand barn sort of place where we mooned over a few bits and pieces, and bought our lovely hosts and industrial looking macadamia nut cracker. I took M to the cafe that J swears makes the best coffee for miles around, and he churlishly proceeded to order a mango smoothy - which, on arrival, was bigger than his head and made him suffer accordingly. I had an exorbitantly overpriced fruit salad.

I could tell M was getting twitchy about the time, but I resolutely dragged him onwards. The bookshop was closed. The op-shop was closed. We went to the swimming hole, which was very picturesque. And then found an alternative op-shop which yielded great rewards. Wah-hoo! Things improved somewhat, although I noticed M driving a bit faster on the way home.

We were due to take Small C canoeing while her parents attended an afternoon party. However, this was not to be - the tide was too low, so we spent the afternoon at the beach. I had a last swim. We observed Small C taking after her labrador-esque mother and making new friends up and down the beach, and then starring in her own sand-scapade…

Chips in the park and then a drive to Ballina, where we did a bit of rock climbing near the lighthouse. M then performed his evilest trick of the holiday, and bought Small C some feral looking fairy floss, to prime her for being returned to her poor parents. Some of it was blue - and her entire mouth took on the hue. Her parents staggered back slightly upon seeing her when we met up at the airport, but seemed, after a few horrified seconds, to be able to cope.

We said sad goodbyes. Stupid end-of-holiday-not-ready-to-go-yet and probably would have seriously thought of staying forever, except two feral wildly pierced people and their baby had moved into the garden flat a few hours previously - so Ian and J could make some pre-Christmas income. The next time we all see each other, our numbers will have increased by two!