This is it.

Well.

This is it.

This is our last night 'living' aboard Awaitea. We had intended to spend it together, toasting our travels (or lack thereof) over a lovely dinner & bottle of bubbles, but instead I'm going to be slogging it out at work whilst hopefully Xave & the kids meditate, light a few candles - extinguish a few lit torches? - & toast our time aboard our most recent home on behalf of me too.

Awaitea is all but sold. We are taking her out of the water to paint & antifoul etc, and so have rented an eensy weensy teeny weeny apartment in Double Pay for a couple of months. In this case, compared to home, lets just call it Triple Pay...

It was our decision, and at the eleventh hour we can only see the pros of the boating lifestyle. 'sokay. I'm fine. Just sad. :(

Because you see, It is just as easy living on a boat as a house, when you are connected to mains power & have plenty of water, & can simply step off onto a pontoon to get to wherever you're going. Just as easy.

Staying at Rushcutters Bay however has enabled us to be amongst the vibrancy of this city, and for the most part, we have been made to feel welcome - by the staff of the CYCA in particular - thanks largely to Cooks bewitching everyone that she comes across. Just this morning, as Cooks busied herself on the reception desk, a comment was made about her interesting outfit & head gear. The wonderful Maria on reception, stated very matter of factly to her colleague, that 'Cooks likes to do things differently. Doesn't she look lovely'. Warm thanks to Maria, Nick, Gerard, Angie, Marcus & Frank for indulging the kids, making us feel welcome, and shuffling us around in order to accomodate us. We will miss the CYCA.

Awaitea has been very kind to us. She has kept us safe & dry. She has rocked us to sleep, and provided a simple stepping stone to the aquatic playground for the kids. Cookie was 2 when she moved on board Awaitea. She is 4 now. This will probably be most difficult for her - already bursting into tears at the thought of not living aboard. Roo, at 6, simply wants to RUN. To the car, to school, to the park, to the soccer field. Land will suit his ever increasing stride. And as for us, for Xave & I, we are dreaming of our next boat.

Thanks Awaitea, for bringing us close, & for teaching us balance (and now the tears are well & truly flowing......

Re-berth.

So here we are - snugly tucked in to our temporary berth. Once again being rocked to sleep at an entirely too early hour - & waking up groggily on the couch 2 hours later, and that's without wine...

It feels the best. It truly does.

Wasn't the easiest and most glamorous arrival at our berth I have say. Xave might divorce me for spilling the beans, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

(Anything for a laugh).

I insisted that he reverse in - the bow sprit had something to do with it, but mostly because the other boats were stern in and I wanted to match. Going forward is obviously easier than reversing, but keeping with the 'happy wife, happy life' theory, he quietly (& still calmly) acquiesced.

Bearing in mind that we were surrounded by gazillion dollar racing yachts, we (he) took it super slowly - we've witnessed lots of people come to grief, approaching a pen too fast and getting into all sorts of trouble. Xave popped her in her pen after 6 goes, but not before a nice little audience had assembled to witness the task. Nothing like a bit of public pressure to calm the nerves... As usual, Cooks and Roo started trying to kill each other down below which kept me busy and not much help. (I promise I wasn't hiding). Promise.

Anyway - after poking my head up & checking all was good, I went back down below to ground the children for the rest of their lives. On resurfacing, I found Xave had turned puce. PUCE. That lovely pinky/purple colour. Of course I burst into laughter (fearful nervous - I could get chucked in the water for this - type laughter) because he looked so.... purple. Xave had been re-routing the stern line, when the current grabbed the keel and swung her round, causing Xave to lose balance, and dangle wetly in the water, then having to ask a passerby to grab the rope and pull the boat (and Xave) back to the pontoon - "BECAUSEHISUSELESSWIFEWASNTHELPINGASUSUAL" (add your own expletive).

Seriously, he was so purple. It was so funny.

We are managing to get kids to school & ourselves to work, clean and tidy, and only smelling a tiny bit like deisel. We have also reconnected with each other. There is NOTHING more family friendly, than living on a boat.

THE PROS FAR OUTWEIGH THE CONS.

Seashoes on our seafeet which should hopefully be connected to our sealegs...

and no, I'm not talking about those Japanese toe shoes...

AT LAST we are back on board Awaitea.

We have had such a wonderful time looking after our mates' dogs in Watsons Bay, and now that they are home, last night, we slept aboard Awaitea for the first time in 5 months.

OK, so I haven't bumped my head - yet - and apart from the initial nausea, and the great galumping ferry "Borrowdale" nearly throwing me off my not-so-seafeet, some things have come back very naturally, (like using 3 squares of toilet paper, and cleaning our teeth with a mouthful of water) and apart from Xave & I admitting that it feels 'kinda crowded', the kids are very comfortable, happy & cosy, and jump about like it's the most normal home in the world.

Backtracking, to say we (I) agonised over the decision to move back on board is an understatement. Lets just say, that during one of my frequent bunny boiling moments (I was BORN for that role), a couple of serendipitous meetings with a couple of kindred spirits, enabled me to re-focus and choose to get back on the boat rather than lease an apartment which we were an ink stroke away from doing...

Last night, as I lay awake with a sick Cookie (she hasn't been unwell for AGES - hows that for timing), unable to switch off my brain, I thought about the logistics of getting Roo to school, clean & tidy?, of about Xave leaving the boat at sparrows fart to get to work, clean & tidy?, of about me getting to work, clean & tidy?, and returning home from work at 1.30am and looking for a carpark, then walking through a well known beat to the marina, (maybe my gender will work to my advantage in this case).... needless to say, I'm kinda buggered this morning.

On Sunday, we will be moving our palatial vessel to an easier berth rather than mooring for the next month or so, whilst Xave finishes his work commitments, then after that, well, we'll see.

Finally, lets not underestimate Awaitea. She is truly a beautiful boat. She is comfy & safe, and as much as I bag her, it's not her, per se, it's the fact that she's 30 square metres rather than 150 square metres, and that's not her fault.

Distractions.

Always distractions.

I know I am neglecting my blog. But apparently I am easily distracted.

Most recently, each time I sign in to this blog with the intention of writing, I get caught up reading a TOTALLY ADDICTIVE BLOG called: this battered suitcase. ( www.thisbatteredsuitcase.blogspot.com ) It is about travel in South East Asia, and she is alluring. Usually I read until I've caught up on this strangers' travels, then I find my small window of writing opportunity has passed.

Today, Cooks is being 'good' and I reckon I can squeeze out another 5 mins, so here goes....

I have been wanting to write something hilarious for AGES, but strangely, this city has me stumped.

Things aren't really funny in Watsons Bay. Well, maybe they are, but I keep missing them, either that or I've lost my sense of humour. ?

The whales: big & plentiful (but not funny).
The boats: floating (but not funny).
Work: tolerable (but SO not funny).

So sorry. Sorry for losing my sense of humour. But I WILL find it again.

We've got a month or so before our lives are turned upside down again, thing is, we aren't quite sure which direction we will be heading. We will either head north aboard Awaitea, or go and work in Asia somewhere, or travel in Asia, or go catamaran shopping. Somewhere. What we DO know, is that we're not ready to settle yet.

Fasten your seatbelts kids.

Lady Muck's Erection.

Roo's school has a fantastic kitchen garden, and the school have been asking for a volunteer to create a girlfriend for their resident scarecrow, Malcolm.

I thought it would be a nice idea to leave a legacy in the form of a scarecrow, so put up my hand.

There began a scarecrow making frenzy. Of course it all happened with superhero speed, as once I start something I pretty much OBSESS about it until it's complete. Not good for my brain or my family for that matter. Good however, in this case, for Malcolm.

After several trips to the oppy for her garb, and to the hardware store so that my over engineering husband could create a frame which would withstand a cyclone, she sat, frighteningly, in our hallway, for a week, waiting for it to stop raining long enough to be able to enact her erection in the vegie patch.

She only spent a day or so in the hallway, as she freaked us out every time we caught her in our peripheral vision - nightmare causing stuff - the rest of the week, she lay, face down, in a corner of an unused room....

Anyway, she's up now. She's freaking out the kids in the kinder classes who overlook the vegie garden, and not us at home, which is a GOOD thing. She might however be a bit fancy for Malcolm.

Oh, and her name is Lady Muck. My clever sister Sam thought of that. Nice work Sam, although no-one here gets it... don't all husbands call their wives Lady Muck? Or is it just mine?

The kids and I recently had a brief visit home. Roo in particular had been hassling me to see his friends, and so, we zipped home for our fix.

I also had an alterior motive: to see if a visit home was 'enough' or whether it was time to come home permanently.

We filled every moment with friends and family, exhausted ourselves extensively, had sleepovers and sleepins, and were well and truly plum tuckered out when we came back to Sydney.

Cookie, being the most 'changed' to her little friends (thanks largely to her haircut), had to work hard to convince her mates that it was indeed her. On one such occasion, Cooks stood happily next to her pal, whilst her pal appealed to her mum "where's Cookie?" right beside you darling. The poor little possum, burst into tears, stating "but I want the other Cookie". They found their friendship again after not too long.

Another little friend of Cooks', seemed to accept that Cooks had cut her hair, and that it was indeed still Cooks', HOWEVER, Cookie had just, simply, become a boy. Hence, "is he sleeping on my floor mum?" and "he's in the bathroom". etc etc. Cookie took it all in her stride.

She also amused us all one afternoon, whilst creating a communal picture with some little friends. My pal asked her what those lovely things were in her picture? Cookie replied matter of factly that they were "creatures that live in your hair". Most little girls draw flowers and girls. Cookie apparently draws head lice. She's a funny little bugger.

Roo had a wonderful time with all his friends, and certainly got his fix. I also formally apologise to everyone we visited for COMPLETELY TRASHING YOUR HOMES. I did warn you. We haven't changed!

And me, well I drank too much (!), ate too much (!!), talked too much and gratefully accepted all the generosity and time afforded me by my MUCH. LOVED. FRIENDS. AND. FAMILY.

and so to the alterior motive: I'm happy to continue on doing whatever it is we're doing, I'm not ready to come home, and keen to continue being adrift..... and stay tuned, August will bring change, and hopefully more entertaining and interesting posts! and I'm looking forward to it.



Excited squids.


Amongst their special mates.


All a bit much.

Wear beige.

Today I'm off to Roo's school's Mothers Day lunch.

something is bothering me: is it [Mother's] or [Mothers] Day? i.e, if it's the day belonging to Mother then it would be Mother's, but if it's for all the mothers, then it would be Mothers, and so, by that reckoning, seeing as though it appears to be a day for all mothers, belonging to mothers, then it should be Mothers'. But then I guess we don't really own it........

Anyway, to celebrate the occassion, I am trotting off down the hill to the water's edge to spend a 3 hour luncheon with some other mums, and we have been asked to wear white or beige. So as not to overstimulate the senses......

Now, some of my friends, are VERY good at wearing white. I however am NOT.

I am a dirt magnet. I have never looked crisp and clean. it is not in my makeup. in the rare occasion that I have worn the wretched hue, I have come off second best - food slopped down my front, or sat on something disgusting - right on the crack, never a cheek, always the crack ?@#*!

Currently, I don't have anything white. I did have, but I managed to dye it all pink in the last wash.

So beige it is, and beige it will have to be.

I have ONE beige top, well it's possibly more peach than beige, and then again one might call it apricot or oyster, but I'm going to have to go with beige. This top is unfortunately a bit see through, so it will have to have a [formerly white] pink singlet beneath it, which will potentially make it more of a salmon colour... It is also made from a very fine cotton, so no doubt, I will slop my first sip of sparkling down the front, and my [now salmon] top will have a wet patch which will stick to the [originally white] singlet making the top a dirty sort of clay colour - AND IS THAT DIRTY SORT OF CLAY COLOUR BLOODY BEIGE?...

Probably not.

Now, what to wear on the bottom....

Happy MOTHERS & STEP-MOTHERS Day.

Calling all Brides...

I DARE you to put on your impending wedding invitations:

Phones on silent in bags please.

Too many weddings I've worked at have tables full of guests on their smartphones. They aren't talking to the person beside them, they aren't dancing - they have no idea what is happening beyond their phone.

Recently, one even went so far as to ask me what the WIFI password was at my work.

My response:
the password is 'doyouknowhowmuchthebrideispayingforyoutosithereandsurfthenet?'

So go on brides, start the trend. Your guests will thank you for it :)

Stage mothers & guinea pigs..

As the weeks progress, our lives are becoming steadily busier (why do we do this to ourselves?).

Desperate to fill the days to the brim - or as Kipling said, make each minute 60 seconds worth of distance run. (or something along those lines), one such activity has been Roo's entrance into the entertainment industry.

The anonymity of Sydney, led me to sign him up. Sign him up to a [child exploitation?] modelling agency. He said he was keen, but lets not fool ourselves, how on EARTH would he know WHAT to be keen for, and for that matter, I also had NO IDEA what to expect. Nevertheless, here we were, after school one day, off to a casting for a TV commercial.

I was more nervous than Roo. We walked into an office, which was empty except for a couple of partitions, and a table or two. As we were virgins, we were led to fill out a form, of which most was left blank, as I had no info. with me (measurements etc). Roo was then asked to stand against a wall, facing a Korean dude.

'Hello Roo*, Carouac?'

Roo* looks shyly at me

'Carouac?'

*bows head and looks extra shyly at me

I say, I think he wants to know if you can act. 'can you act?'

*'no'.

'Cayoucry?'

*looks shyly at me.

'Can you cry?'

*'no'. said through tear welling eyes.

The End. And off we go.

Hmmm, we chalked that up to experience and walked out the door, vowing not to subject Roo to that again.
Problem was: he got the job.

So like all good parents, I bribed the living daylights out of him to 'perform'.
I did everything BUT stand in the wings with overexaggerated facial expressions and spirit fingers. Thankfully, his 'dad' spoke kindly to him throughout the filming, and Roo did well, and enjoyed it. He was very proud of himself. He deserved his bribe of Lego Creations.

And all this attention and accolade for Roo, might just be the cause of Cookie's latest 'performance'. One evening, whilst we sat finishing dinner in the dining room, our beautiful daughter, busied herself in the kitchen. Those that know Cooks, know that when she is is quiet for more than 2 minutes, one MUST investigate, and so Xave, with apprehensive feet, went to check. Ten seconds later, he returned with what looked like a guinea pig in his hands.

A cute, cuddly guinea pig.

A cute, cuddly guinea pig made entirely from Cookie's hair. Pretty much all of it.

She had done a number on herself. Most was short, except for a few long bits at the back. She'd cut down to the scalp in a few spots, fringe and back, and for the life of us, we have no idea how she didn't make herself bleed. What a clever? girl.

I've tidied it up, and think she looks adorable, if not a bit peculiar.

... this is how our lives are progressing.

Always with some sort of drama. Keeps us honest.

Advantage: Al

I hesitantly went along to my first day of 'ladies tennis' at an incredibly picturesque set of courts in Sydney's eastern suburbs. I guess I was expecting a certain amount of snobbery. I was wrong. Is that reverse snobbery?

I was at once made to feel very welcome, and was instantly introduced to a couple of ladies who kindly embraced my presence. The usual pre match [size up] banter, naughtily led me to whip out my borrowed racquet and ask: 'is this a tennis racquet?'.

That worried them.

Can't imagine why.

We then proceeded to the court, me with my allocated (and quite understandably worried) partner - thanks to my racquet joke - for our first set of doubles.

Now, I've smacked a couple of balls around a court with my step son Dan over the years, and was the under 12 champ a long long time ago, so when asked about my skill level, I said, um, compared to who? Thankfully my first set was with 3 other fairly relaxed players. We were evenly matched, and had a good game. Deuce.

That was certainly not the case as the day progressed.

It's quite an unpleasant feeling, when you are losing the game for your partner. I knew I needed to up the ante. I needed to find my opponent's weakness. One particular opponent was very 'up to date' with the rules and regulations. When I am serving, after I've served the first ball, if it [suprisingly] goes IN, I fling the second, unused service ball behind me in a mad flap to get rid of it prior to the return.

NOT ALLOWED.

Apparently, it is distracting, and they could claim the point. My partner: 'no you can't'. My opponent: 'yes you can'. My partner: 'no you can't'. My opponent: 'yes you can', and so on and so forth... It was getting a bit fiery. This of course continued on when my 'up to date' opponent lost her visor in the wind (one MUST wear a visor). My equally 'up to date' partner announced after that point, that we could have claimed the point due to the distraction of said visor. Oh dear. The claws were well and truly out. During my dressing down about my flingful 2nd ball however, it was suggested, with a smile that was all fangs, that I either 'get a ball holder' (way too fancy for this chicken) OR, 'pop it in your undies dear'. Now, I'm already self conscious about gallavanting about the court with a bunch of strangers with my cellulite in FULL VIEW, and I certainly do not want to hoik (sp?) my shorts up further by shoving a bloody ball up my undies, so I replied, (I had no choice) : sorry dear, my undies are so full of arse, that I couldn't possibly fit a tennis ball in there'. 40 Love.

I then proceeded to run her around the court, trying to capitalise on her weak spot, but she had a cracking serve and a frightening forehand and beat us fair and square.

She had just turned 70. SE VEN TY!
Poetry. Good on her. Ace.

I then played with a fiercely competitive lady, who proceeded to instruct me prior to each point. It worked. We won. But it gave me the SHITS! Love all.

My last game was funny, relaxed, and close.

As I left for the day, happy in the knowledge that I wasn't completely useless, and wondering if my strained, tortured, unused muscles would actually get me to the car without collapsing, I heard a lady call to me: 'you'll do well here'.

I expect I will dear.

Premature evaluation?

Ok.

So I might have been a bit, um....... hasty.
Maybe this isn't the world's unfriendliest city after all.

It IS a hard nut to crack - that is FOR SURE - but that's nothing that a heavy, stainless steel nutcracker can't fix. Or a 40 yr old girl with balls for that matter.

Maybe, it's just possible, barely possible, that I, um, possibly, came on a bit strong? Maybe my 'desperation' could be smelt a mile off. My desperation to form those warm, easy, heart-on-sleeve type friendships of home.

Those friendships take a lot more than 2 weeks to cultivate.

But in the meantime, some of the 'good stuff' is emerging from within those hard, outer, proterctive, shells. I am starting to feel generosity, warmth, kindness, and inclusion.

Stay tuned too, as I"ve just joined an eastern suburbs ladies tennis club... should be something in that to write about...

Steamy.

One thing I've noticed about this lil ol' citay, is that it is so damn HUMID.

Some people LOVE humidity. They like the things it does to their hair.

Humid and Al however are not great mates.

I've had a couple of brushes with humidity: once whilst travelling around s.e. Asia - I was pretty much dripping with sweat and cracking the shits most of that trip. (Xave and I also got married during that trip, poor Xave)..... the other brush with humidity was whilst living in HK, however I was too busy being morose and feeling sorry for myself to notice.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been wandering around the house, wondering whether the dogs are weeing everywhere. The rugs are damp. I've even gone so far as to get down on my hands and knees and smell the floor. Not cool, but thankfully, not wee either. Today, I went to pop on my straw hat which was hanging in the hallway, and it was WET. SOAKING WET.

Riddle me this my humidity dwelling friends: would my hat be soaking up the moisture in the air? and if it is, should I be placing many straw hats around the place to draw in the moisture, thereby keeping it out of the rugs?

Advice please, or is there nothing to be done?

Principal's awards & principal smartarses..

Australia's unfriendliest city?

The weather (apart from the last 48 hours) is fairly perfect. The outlook over the harbour on one side, and the ocean on the other are equally - and unfairly - perfect. Roo's transition to school has been perfect - note for happy beginning: hold your child back a month or so, give his teacher a 'give or take' start date, so that when he arrives at school he is so expected that he has reached celebrity status.... Roo's class ROCKS. He is happy, confident, and - brag o'clock - is already the proud recipient of the weekly principal's award. Cookie's favourite time of the day is school drop off and pick up. She adores the girls in Roo's class, and has everyone - kids, parents and teachers alike - completely hoodwinked. :) She is in her element.

The last couple of weeks have been a bit rough tho'. Someone told me that Sydney was widely known as Australia's unfriendliest city, I was desperate to disprove this, but struggling to all the same, and so last week, after a teary, pmt fuelled call to a pal, lamenting absent friends and unfamiliar faces, the universe thankfully kicked in, and produced, not one, but 2 invitations to playdates, a birthday invitation for a grownup, as well as a birthday invitation for a childerbeast to follow up on last weeks' birthday party. A visit from my wonderful cousin Jules, a visit from the wonderful Lords (we had kept that a secret from the kids until their oldest mates rang the doorbell! - priceless).

Gotta love that universe sometimes.

I've also managed to scrounge up some work, however, the universe hasn't exactly pushed the right buttons on that front tho. Might need a bit of a 're-tweak'. Without naming names, it's been an 'interesting' transition back into the workforce.

9 months off.
2 days on.
On the verge of about 9 more months off..... at least.

The thing about work for me, is that it gives me an outlet to TALK. It gives me a break from the kids, and usually, a good old belly laugh. What sort of an idiot then, chooses a job whereby one is not required to talk - oh, apart from of course: " would you prefer red wine or white? ".... My age is also against me, my colleagues are 12 years old, they aren't giving me the chance to show them how hilariously funny I am. I'm just not cool enough to be given any attention. I feel like one of the Baby Boomers on TAYG. Sort of. Which leads me to the principal smartarse bit of this post: One of the ugly things about the hospitality industry, is unfortunately, ego. It is rife here. Get over yourselves.

Tomorrow is the start of a new week... lets see where it takes me.

initial observations.

Well, 5 days in, and so far, so good.

We are in such an idyllic spot, so very lucky, and I dare say it's going to very hard to leave come August.

Big city living. Crikey. I cannot believe how wildly expensive Sydney is, well I can, but one tends to put these things out of one's mind. I am also dead scared of driving. The couple of times I've done it, I've been bloody well honked at so many times it's exhausting, not to mention infuriating. Lets not forget either, that prior to the boat, I was in a coastal town. Not the big smoke. I have become a bit of a nanna.

It is also interesting to note that the locals mostly happen to be either English or South African. Apparently Durban & Brighton have moved to Watsons Bay and Vaucluse. There is an entire aisle devoted to the .za tucker at the local Coles... actually, I've been looking for an old South African pal for years. (she probably lives down the road).

To say I feel a bit out of place would be an understatement.

The kids however feel completely at home. They love being back in a house, love the dogs which we're looking after, love the local sea baths and the local playground. Their months of confidence building on the boat, has served them well. They are so good at introducing themselves, and making friends. I seem to be struggling a bit on that front. Usually not shy about crapping on to anyone at all, any conversations I start are met with agonising disinterest. Obviously choosing the wrong people to meet? or the wrong topic? Thankfully kids don't give a rat's arse about image and breeding...

Work will be next on the list of things 'to do'.

Actually, might pop that little chestnut a bit further down. that. list.

x

packing up the pirate booty.

So the day has come. The day we alight our humble floating home.

Life will become eassssy again.
We will have fresh running drinking water.
A washing machine.
Space to swing a cat (or 2 little dogs for that matter).

So why then do we both feel disappointed?

Awaitea is our space. It's our home. It's where we've had our ups & downs, tears & laughter. It's where we've carried the weight of two young children and the worries caused by being surrounded by water.

We've been living in a constant state of necessary hyper sensitivity. Sensitive to the sounds of the electrical buzzes, the water pumps turning on and off, the footsteps of the kids, the wind up above and the waves down below, to the smells of the sulphuric burning battery, the something caught in the toilet valve, the deisel from passing boats, to the flashing light of the carbon monoxide alarm, to the feel of the damp wood, and the exploration of it's source.

We. Are. Exhausted.

and yet, as we [temporarily] farewell this life for the time being, we are overwhelmed with the feeling of the boat rocking us gently to sleep, & of the kids leaping confidently off the side of the boat into the cool water.

It will be fine, I know it will. There are plenty of pros. No cons.

Do I sound convinced?

A little light on, in a heavy sort of way..

Not much action on the blog front of late.. Xave & I have been 'working a few things out'.

It's funny. When we first starting living on our boat, it was surprising how many single blokes we met living on boats who had started off as part of a couple.

Indeed when we started telling people that we were planning to live on a boat, too many of them offered (?) the same sort of stories: "We had friends who lived on a boat. They're divorced now." etc etc.

So it's really not funny at all, and often a foregone conclusion I imagine.

We are over it. For the time being at least.

I for one, am sick of feeling grotty. Sick of leaving the boat looking like I live on a boat. I'm becoming lazy, bored, and intolerant, (yeah yeah, I know, MORE intolerant). Cast Iron Cookie is fine, but Roo feels anxious when we're sailing, and feels sick. Thank God Xave is keeping us all sane. The bloody shark we passed as we were heading out of Broken Bay was possibly the straw that broke the camels back.

So when our friends asked us if we wanted to look after their home and dogs in Watsons Bay until August, it only took a couple of days of tears of defeat (mine) to decide that we would be MAD not to....

My question to you is this. Should I stop writing these sporadic posts?

In one way, we still feel most definately 'adrift', and we are still 'family robinson'. But is there enough material in the eastern suburbs of Sydney for a bogan girl from Queenscliff to write about?.... Hmmm, I wonder..

Rock a bye baby.

... on the tree top.

In our case, at The Basin.

Yesterday, we farewelled our neighbours and went to the basin for a change of scenery, prior to heading back to Sydney. As expected we had a lovely time swimming in the lagoon, and dining in the sunset with the wallabies and goannas.

As evening closed in, we settled the kids, and Xave and I commented on pleasant it was to be gently rocked to sleep.

FAMOUS LAST WORDS.

We retired at 10pm, and that's when it all turned curly. The north-easterly swell built up, the wind dropped off, the current turned us side on to the swell, and well, lets put it this way, actually, if you like, lets do a little experiment:

1. Lie down on your back.
2. Now, roll to the right so that you are on your right hand side.
3. Now, roll back the other way to finish on your left hand side.
4. Repeat steps 2 & 3
5. Continue for 4 HOURS!

By 1am, Xave & I felt so delirious, that we dropped the mooring, and motored back to Palm Beach, where Xave promptly fell asleep in the calm water, and I, ironically, lay in bed completely wired from the excitement.

Ho hum.

Hot as Hell.

Have I written about the heat?

About the heat inside our steel box?

About the heat inside our dark blue steel box?

Struggling would be an understatement. Lately we've been checking the weather with tentative fingertips, not wanting to hit 'enter' and have a week of 30+ appear on the screen in front of us.

Now one might [rightly] think what's your problem, just jump into the water... and one would be right on the money, and we do, but our issue is not during the day -

It's in the still of the night.

Most evenings, it is a mill pond. There is not a breath of wind.

The other night was so stinking hot, and it went something like this:

10.00pm - kids and Xave finally fall asleep on deck
10.30pm - humidity soaks us through
10.31pm - I wake xave & we move kids into their cabin
12.00am - cooks cries out that she's hot
2.00am - cooks comes into our cabin to cuddle
2.01am - is she fricking kidding me?
2.10am - cooks and I go into the saloon
2.14am - I lie down on the couch
2.14am - she lies down on the other couch
2.15am - she lies down on the wooden floor
2.16am - she shuffles all over the floor for a bit
2.17am - I think I should have wrapped her in a mop outfit
2.18am - she comes to a stop on the floor in the companionway
2.20am - she is asleep
3.30am - I'm still on the couch, waiting for sleep
3.32am - roo calls out in his sleep that he's hot
3.33am - I start hating Xave that he is snoringly asleep
3.34am - I toy with the idea of waking him up
3.35am - roo stays asleep
3.36am - I don't wake Xave coz that would be truly wrong
3.37am - I admit to myself that I didn't wake up Xave b/c Roo stayed asleep not because it would have been wrong
4.00am - I turn on the light and start reading 'The Slap' (thanks M.C)
6.45am - Roo wakes for the day

12.00pm - We all drive west for 3 hours to the Jenolan Caves in the Blue Mountains where we stay for 2 days.

The caves were so so so cool and lovely and the chrystals were stunningly beautiful.

One tough Cookie.

Those that know Cooks, know that she has a bit of a 'thing' for creatures.

Spiders, ants, slaters, slugs, snails, beetles. Her creatures have been collected from the sea lately - fish, prawns, squids, crabs, pipefish, sea worm thingos....

and moon jellyfish.

Jellyfish must be her current favourites. She spends hours collecting them in her net, popping them in a bucket, unfortunately sometimes squishing them through her fingers.

Well apparently the moonies, have exacted their revenge.

They've called on their cousin, the blue bottle. ONE SOLITARY STINKING NASTY BLUE BOTTLE to do their dirty work.

Cooks was floating around the boat, in her floaties, minding her own business when they put their 'plan' into action. All of a sudden, Cooks started screaming and swimming back to us ferociously fast.

We had NO IDEA what had happened, as we were watching her the entire time.

The poor little mite had been stung all over her tummy, bum, chest, shoulder, wrist - she must have swum in a circle and wrapped the tentacle around her...

Lots of hot water, followed by copious treats, and she was fine.

Today she's covered in red dots (which were white raised dots after the sting). It really did do a number on her.
.. and today we're checking for them prior to jumping off the boat.

and Cooks, true to form, couldn't give a rat's arse. She's back in the water now, proud of her dots.

She is one tough Cookie!

Alterior motives?...

So I guess it's no suprise about the lack of nautical miles we've covered...

TRUE. We've been on the water since June, and away from home since Sept, but, um, we're still in Pittwater.

Started here. Went (all the way!) down to Sydney. And, now we're back here. Again.

Granted, Xave wanted to spend New Years Eve on Sydney Harbour, and we did that. But it's now the end of Jan and he's making noises about staying here for Feb too.

My suspicions are setting in.

Do you think, perhaps, that my husband is planning, and for that matter, has intended to all along, STAY HERE FOREVER?

Well, it is one of the most beautiful spots around, and I could think of worse places to be, but are we not going to go even a little bit further? Xave?

XAVE?

In the meantime horever, we have just had a lovely visit from our photographer friend anna.lord - I finally got to meet Molly who was the CRUISIEST boat guest ever! The following pics are courtesy of Anna.

Cookie in a Kingfish Costume.

A friend recently gave Cookie the most adorable pair of sparkly silver swimmers.

We have however, banned her from wearing them whilst jumping off the boat into the deep water.

WHY?

Because she looks like a very. tasty. kingfish.

(and we certainly don't want to attract any unwelcome kingfish eating visitors).

..... the swimmers are now her 'dancing' clothes.

Little Penguins.

On a recent ferry ride to Patonga, the driver (pilot? captain? skipper?) told Xave that Lion Island, just inside the entrance to Broken Bay, is the northern most habitat for little penguins in the southern hemisphere.

Fabbo.

Yesterday morning, whilst lying in my cabin, on a sparkling windless morning, I heard a strange 'call'.

I hopped, actually clambered, out of bed to investigate.

The sweetest trio of penguins, were cruising around our boat, and they were very vocal.
- apparently, they were working in teams, signalling to each other, letting each other know where they were so as to optimize fishing performance.

They spent the day fishing around Dark Gully where our boat is moored. Coming together from time to time to check on each other.

I took a photo but it didn't work - was more like a kind of 'see that speck on the water? well it's a penguin' type photo. (Not worth uploading).

Thanks for your company lps, we hope to see you again.

Mum and Dad

We've had a busy boathold of late...

Firstly, Xave's niece and her fella came on board for a sail up the coast, then our mates and their beautiful girls arrived from home for a night on board, and finally, Mum and Dad, who have just spent a week or so with us.

It's been LOVELY to finally fill that front cabin.

Our week was spent relaxing, drinking, & swimming. We showed Mum and Dad the beauty of Pittwater and the surrounds. We had a lovely couple of nights away, during which Mum and Dad celebrated their wedding anniversary with a bottle of fizz and a perfect sunset... We caught a ferry on an overcast day to the Patonga Beach Hotel for lunch, ate fish and chips on Palm Beach during a balmy evening with friends, and Xave and I, actually had an evening out, sans children. Such a treat. but most of all, the kids enjoyed the extra attention from their grandparents. We were sad to see them go...

Below are a handful of pics taken through [mostly] their eyes. It's interesting to get someone else's perspective of our current existance!




coffee anyone?


hair washing duties


Dad on pirate watch


Dinner preparations

A little bit of common courtesy goes a long way.

We're back in Pittwater. It's certainly a lot busier than it was the last time we were here...

The moorings which we 'borrowed' prior to Summer, are now highly sought after, and so consequently, we were unfortunate enough to be kicked off one recently.

Now, this post is actually about MANNERS.

M.A.N.N.E.R.S.

You know, those things we were brought up with. The pleases and thankyous.

One evening, we were moored in The Basin. We were happily preparing dinner, when a yacht sailed by slowly, it meandered around, then sailed by again, this time mentioning, almost hesitantly, that the mooring we were on belonged to the RPA YC. Now, these sailors had every right to ask us to give up our mooring, instead, they very kindly - and politely - asked if we'd mind if they rafted up beside us for a few hours whilst they had dinner.

OF COURSE.

The next morning, an altogether different version:

A yacht arrived, did a few laps around the boats and all the vacant moorings, then announced to us, with much savvy and unnecessary attitude, that we were on a RPAYC mooring, and that we are not members, and therefore, [move]. NOW.
(whilst we circle you menacingly). Interesting.

The system works well most times, and borrowed moorings, are happily relinquished when requested, but a little bit of manners and courtesy goes a long way.

Cookie's pearls of wisdom...

Cookie, jumping excitedly into the companionway : "Mum, MUM, MMUUMM, a bloody cor re ment has shitted all over our deck. It's disgrusting!"

She is all class, and clearly her mother's daughter.

HNY!!!!!

Well, that certainly went off with a bang!

One thing on Xave's 'must do' list, was to be on the harbour for new year's eve celebrations. tick.

We dropped anchor in Double Bay,

dropped anchor, I mean splashingly, heavily actually dropped anchor - (sorry, still patting myself on the back for that one).

as I said, we had dropped anchor the day before so as to secure a good pozzy. Nick had suggested Double Bay, as it was less of a circus than the very popular Athol Bay at the base of Taronga Zoo. It turned out to be such a good spot - and we had nothing but water between us and the sparks. (We later talked to a couple who had been anchored in Athol Bay, who said that it was utter chaos over there and actually quite stressful).

So the Tsoukaris & Robinson boats were rafted together thereby creating 2 spaces - one with music, a dance space, and comfy seats, and the other with lego down below and a quieter, if not less comfortable, chill out zone. Perfect. During the rafting process, when Xave & Nick were busy on the starboard side, a water taxi arrived on our port side, calling out for me to accept his passengers.

Um, OK, but who exactly are they? Thankfully one made himself known to me (I would have welcomed them regardless), and so I got ready to catch the rope to tie up the water taxi... the driver obviously thought I was quite hopeless as he suddenly asked for the 'deck hand', to which I happily (and rather braggingly) replied 'this is MY boat, and you're looking at her'. Nobody likes a bragger, but gee it felt good!

(We transferred the passengers without incident.)

Initially, knowing that Roo & Cookie were the youngest on board, I was a nervous wreck - and when 2 of the teenage kids jumped in for a swim, I ran, panicked, to the side thinking that Cooks had gone overboard. My friends got a drink into me soon after that, they then stapled, superglued, and velcroed Cooks to the 3 x 12 year old girls, and Roo and the big boys busied themselves down below with the lego etc- we had to put a stop to the 'chasey' game they started around the 2 boats later in the night. Xave and I took turns supervising the kids, and we had such a fun night. For Xave in particular, it was brilliant to hang out with all his old school pals.

The kids LOVED the fireworks, (Roo set his body clock and re-awoke for the midnight ones - clever boy). We feel so lucky to have been able to enjoy the spectacle from aboard Awaitea. We also had all of Xave's kids on board together, which was wonderful. Happy New Year to you all.

* There are lots of hilarious photos of people in varying states of inebriation, but without their knowledge & therefore their permission, I'm only posting pics of our family. Oh how I'd love to post more....









Alex & Phoebe


Dan & Jake


A happy dad with his 4 kids all together