Happy New Year from Australia!
Things have been fairly uneventful since we returned from Sydney before Christmas, mainly because Port Macquarie is a curious mix of holiday camp and retirement village. When I asked the hairdresser where was good to go for a night out he simply shook his head regretfully; ‘we don’t have anything like that here’. Marvellous! For a couple whose love of eating out is only surpassed by a night at the pub, it’s been something of a challenge. We said our final farewells to the place a few hours before the big New Year’s party at the bowling club got underway.
Sunny Flynn's Beach
But, in the no man’s land between Christmas and New Years Eve, the sun came out. Wahoo! We even saw a dolphin leap out of the water with a jaunty flick of the tail right in front of the surfers casually waiting on their boards. We haven’t seen any of the ferocious flooding that has hit north east Australia – yet. Our ill-conceived plans will however take us to that region in the next few days. So while the rest of the county languishes in 40 degree heat, we find ourselves umbrella shopping. But those few days of sun in Port MacQ were glorious. I battled wills with the sea, naturally losing every time, with a tangle of me and my bodyboard being spat out, ankle deep, hair straggled all over my face and either my bum or boobs (often both) perilously close to escaping my bikini. Chris loitered closer to shore, waves belting him at knee height. He watched me in bemusement as I suffered yet another lung filling, limb wrenching, water churning wipe-out, before perkily jumping back up to try again with a ‘sure you don’t fancy a try?’
NYE Fireworks at the South Bank, Brisbane
We’ve made no new friends for a while, just the occasional exchange of greetings with Rhonda next door and a brief car handover with the Austrians moving into our vacated house swap. There were several helpful hints we could have shared; that when your bedroom is so intrusively overlooked you do eventually stop caring if the neighbours ever see you naked; there are really no excuses for runway carpet; and that the ‘BONG!’ of the car alerting you that you are almost speeding, despite being 5km/h below the actual speed limit may well fuel a road rage incident. In the end we left it with ‘there’s milk in the fridge’.
What to do in 2011?
So here we are on New Year’s Day, contemplating the light drizzle and our next few days on the road. Not hampered by a hangover (the family friendly river-side fun banned both alcohol consumption and boisterous behaviour) we are raring to go.
Happy New Year!