m i a o w


Tag: weekend (Page 1 of 3)

Sunday night

My paltry post last night before crashing out in the caravan was an admittedly desperate attempt to keep my posts to a daily basis.

We drove to Brighton yesterday to have lunch with some people we met a few years ago, prior to them going to sea in a very large catamaran. Since we saw them back then they were shipwrecked (that is not a sentence I have written before), and have also bought at least one more boat. Anyway, they had a lot of boaty stuff that they are planning to sell, and M was invited to go through it all to see if there was anything for our very large boat.

He found quite a bit, I think. And we spent all afternoon with them, their dogs, their barbeque, and all their boaty stuff covering their deck for M to purvey. After that we left (with the caravan in tow) to go to L&D’s house in Bentleigh, where we were expected the following afternoon for L’s birthday celebrations. They were about three minutes away.

Small Z and Chloe Rose were very excited with each other, pushing back their respective bedtimes with their overtired glee. Finally Small Z was sleeping in the caravan, Chloe was in her bed, and we all retired to the garage and had a drink, feeling momentarily like people who had never procreated…except for the boxes of baby clothes that were stored within my line of sight.

I’m not sure whether it was my large glass of wine, the homeopathic stuff I had given Small Z for her teething, the lack of a day nap, or the planets aligning, but MY GOD we had a good night’s sleep. I was so tempted to spend another night in the front garden, just to have another one.

We spent this morning at Bentleigh Market, which I could have easily stayed at for at least another hour. I got a glass teapot, Oliver Sacks’ autobiography, March by Geraldine Brooks – and a few books for Small Z, who, it seems, can never have too many. Breakfasted at a cafe because we could. Then went home and tried to be a little helpful in preparing for visitors later in the afternoon.

Chloe pushes Zoe

The afternoon was lovely, despite some odd and intermittent showers. Lots of cheese, chips and cheesecake and lamingtons. Talk of iPhones and developing apps, as well as ongoing toddler wrangling and peacekeeping. Happy Birthday L!!


Maldon Folk Festival 2009

Our trip to Maldon was great. The weather was HOT! It was a shock, as there was no gradual ascent to the heat, it just jumped from weeks of average-ish spring temperatures with lots of rain, to three days of about 30 degrees.


We and our lovely camping companions had a good time, although we didn’t get to see as much music as I had hoped. I felt evilly thwarted when we made the effort to get to the Anglican Church on Sunday morning (I should have realised, right?) in response to an advertisement at a few places of acapella. So we showed up. And it was hymns. One at a time. Punctuated by god-speak. A less stupid person would have been unsurprised (that was E and M). M and I left, taking Small Z, who kept being ‘shooshed’ by devout looking people as she kept shouting ‘Mooosic? Where moosic?! DANCE! DANCE!!’

We tried again later in the day. Same venue. This time accompanied by Mr H & Son. It had been advertised as a gospel concert. WRONG! We tried to join in, but Mr H was rendered insensible by myself on one side hissing “Are we supposed to be singing ‘Bringing in the sheep’? or ‘Bringing in the cheese?'” and Jack (aged 8) on the other, asking, “Are we supposed to be singing ‘Bringing in the sheets?'” When he could speak, he told us heathens that it was ‘Bringing in the sheaves’ – a hymn that Wikipedia now informs me ‘is a popular hymn used almost exclusively by Protestant Christians’ – inspired by Psalm 126.6 – we left shortly afterward.

But aside from the above two paragraphs, the music we glimpsed was excellent, and it was great just to hang out with some other people and their small person for three days. It was good to just be AWAY. We got to tour the home of their friends who live locally and marvel at their chickens, their garden and their lifestyle in general. We attended several cafes and enjoyed kicking back in the late Sunday afternoon shade at the main stage. Beer was drunk, toddler tantrums were refereed and there was bushdancing (where there was also some impromptu napping)…

Conked out...

Each time we’ve been to Maldon M and I have delayed our return home by at least a day. This time we did it with E, D and Small E. We aimed for Malmsbury, but there was nowhere to camp – though we all could have camped in the bakery for a considerable time – the pies and custard tarts were delectable! On the advice of the girl who worked in the bakery we headed for Kyneton, where the caravan park adjoins both the botanical gardens and the river. Divine.

In Kyneton on the air mattress

It balmed my soul to spend a night surrounded by greenery instead of dusty hot bushland (sorry Maldon). We drank gin and tonics into the night, and probably for this reason, E and I had good sleeps. If I had known what I was going to have for breakfast I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all – I would have lain there wide eyed in anticipation.

On a slight tangent, I had read in Epicure a few weeks ago about the foodies street in Kyenton – Piper Street. So, on the morning of Melbourne Cup Day, that’s where we headed, fingers crossed that somewhere would be open. Ladel was open, but they don’t do breakfast. Very kindly, they pointed us in the direction of Slow Living.

Oh. My. God. Let it be known that this is the site of the best breakfast I have EVER had. (Are you paying attention, foody cousin?) It was nothing grand. It was entirely organic. It was two poached eggs, happy bacon, chunky heavy rye, two tomatoes, some spinach. Am kicking myself for not taking photograph of it. It was expensive, as cafe breakfasts go, and it was worth every single cent.

Parallel play on the plaid...

Saturday in training

Another Saturday morning. Oh dear, the more Autumn’s and Springs’s I have, the more I edge toward somewhere like Tasmania or New Zealand as somewhere to live. It seems that 24-26 degrees with a tiny breeze is my ultimate day. Like today. After M chef-ed up some superior scrambled eggs we left the house with Small Z in tow.

We took her to Hastings Station for a joyride on a diesel to Stony Point. Some kids would fail to be impressed by this, but Small Z, being a trainspotter in training (sorry), is not one of them. She had told us we would probably be travelling on Gordon. As the train pulled up, the only other child on the platform, who was a good four years older than Small Z, shrieked “It’s Gordon! It’s GORDON!!” Is there some kind of conspiracy?

Saturday morning train ride

Naturally we travelled for free, as we are mykey virgins and didn’t know you couldn’t buy a ticket at the station anymore. Good one, Victorian government, you’ve done REALLY well with this! We journeyed to Stony Point, where we disembarked, checked the timetable, decided that there was not enough fun there to fill to two hours until the next train, and got back on the train we had just vacated.

Saturday morning train ride

The train was only one carriage and was filled to popping point, mostly by a mass of bright young things escaping the naval base. We got off at Tyabb and wandered around the Packing House for a while, mostly for the coffee in the old red rattler and the slide. There is also a pottery place there – and as someone who has always wondered what they could do with clay and a wheel, I got a brochure for classes.

Saturday morning train ride. Reflecting.

Back home for the nap and then, after some bubbles in the backyard, down to Balnarring beach for the rest of the day. The weird thing was, we avoided the main carpark and went up through some streets, found a secluded spot where there was ONE other car. Parked. Got out. Our neighbours said “Hello!” Apparently it’s their hangout. I think they felt like we were stalking them.

The morning became the day

We began at a garage sale where I bought excellent roof racks for five dollars, took in a crappy market, and then drove to summon a nap out of Small Z until we hit Somers. We bought the paper and hung on the beach for a couple of hours before hitting the cafe there. It reminded me a bit of Martha’s Vineyard…and I’m always impressed by a classy, shabby chic bathroom – this one had crystal door handles, chunky square basins and antiquey looking mirrors…

And the banana smoothies were sublime.

Somers - the cafe

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