Snapshots

I am still reeling from watching a documentary last night featuring Ray Winstone who happened to mention - in passing - that whilst filiming in Australia he was bitten by a Redback.

I'm sorry?

I'm torn between two reactions; firstly, to be relieved that it was such a minor incident (to him, at least) that he can so nonchantly mention it in passing. If it were me, I can tell you that for a very, very, very long time afterwards it would be the first thing I would tell people. "Hi, you don't know me, but I was bitten by a Redback spider in Australia. And my name's Potty Mummy, by the way." A bit of a conversation stopper for the average K&C dinner party, I agree, but I don't think I would be able to help myself.

My second reaction is to do what any reasonable person would, and run around screaming my head off. I mean, if Ray Winstone, living - one would imagine - a reasonably cossetted existence, (albeit in the outback) can be stalked and savagely attacked by one of the beasties that Australia is famed for, what chance do we, the Potty Family, stand when cruising around Queensland in a motor home for a few days?

Don't answer that, and pass me the anti-venom.


Anyway, onto my snapshots...

You’ve got to love a country where a radio ad for a restaurant features a ‘foot long pecker’ as one of it's weekly specials. (Just in case you’re interested, this consists of chicken, goats cheese and tomatoes wrapped in a golden parcel of puff pastry. Personally I would have thought the 'puff' pastry would go without saying, but...) Husband nearly drove off the road.

As this was shortly before we drove past a billboard asking if we wanted SEX (in 6 meter high capital letters) to last longer, and promising to make this happen via a nasal delivery system, you could be forgiven for thinking we are taking a short break in Sodom and Gomorrah.

But no.

We’re still in Sydney.

We were on our way to visit the Blue Mountains for the day, an area of literally outstanding natural beauty, though I’m not sure the Boys thought so from the back seat. They missed the stunning views seen through a smokey blue veil, and instead passed the time giggling at each other’s various wolf, lion, and dog impressions (which, for the record, can become a little bit headache-making after 30 minutes of sustained whooping, howling, and roaring), seeing how many rhyming words they could come up with (a little more challenging for Boy #2, but he did his best with various forms of gobbledegook), winding each other up (not difficult – simply steal your brother’s sunglasses and put them on), and sleeping with their heads nodding forward on their necks in ways that I would think extremely uncomfortable but which didn’t seem to interfere with their naps at all.

When temporarily released from their car seats they ran around in the beautiful Cathedral of Ferns looking for trolls and friendly foxes, tumbling head over heels into the mud, and demanding biscuits with menaces.

We stopped at the view point in Katoomba, hoping to see the famous vista of the valley and mountains, and to be impressed by the 3 Sisters still waiting for their father to find his magic wand and release them from their stone prisons, but of course the mists had closed in, meaning all we could see were the tops of a few eucalyptus trees far below us. The Boys were unphased by this though, choosing instead to enjoy themselves by running up and down the sloping paths shouting ‘wheeeeee!’ at the top of both their vocal registers and their voices, and by being delightedly scared by the rather formidable Aboriginal gentlemen playing the didgeridoo. Boy #1 asked seriously if he was cold – a good question considering we were the chilliest we’ve been up there at around 15 degC, and he was wearing only a loincloth and some kind of sack hooked around his shoulders.

The didgeridoo player’s sartorial approach to the weather was in marked contrast to most other Australians we’ve seen, however, who are all wrapped up warm. (The exceptions to this were the hard-bodied - mostly male - runners out on the streets around the harbour when we went to the collect the rental car at 9.00am. They had clearly decided the slightly cooler weather was no impediment to showing off their toned physiques – which was nice. Husband accused me of looking. Of course I wasn’t...).

And whilst waiting on the quay for the ferry this morning, in glorious sunshine at around 20 degC, a local family turned up kitted out in jumpers, jackets, scarves, and in the case of their 4 year-old daughter, tights. And they looked at us as if we were mad...